Our Fair Ladies
by PlotbunniesRUs
Summary: A sudden change of plans leaves the Marauders with only two weeks until the Graduation Ball and no dates! What are they going to do now? It's time for desperate measures! JPLE, SBOC, RLOC
1. Chapter 1

"What do you mean, you have a date?" demanded Sirius. 

Narcissa tossed her thick blonde curls over her shoulder and glared at her cousin. "I mean," she replied evenly, "I have a date. Lucius Malfoy asked me to go to the Graduation Ball with him and I said yes. Is this a problem?"

"Yes, it's a problem!" said Sirius. "You said you were going to wait for James to ask you!"

"I did," Narcissa replied. "And he never asked me."

"But..." Sirius pushed his hands into his long black hair. "What about Andy and Bella?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Well, you couldn't very well expect them to just wait around after I'd already accepted somebody, could you? Bella is going with Rudy LeStrange, and Andy - Merlin knows why, but she is - is going with Ted Tonks." She put her hands on her hips. "What are you going to do about it?"

The only thing Sirius _could _do was groan. Everybody knew that the Black triplets - blonde Narcissa, red-headed Andromeda, and brunette Bellatrix - were the most popular and most desirable girls in Hogwarts. Which was why Sirius had made sure to reserve them for himself and his friends months in advance. "Why didn't you tell Lucius you already had a date?"

"Because I didn't have one," said Narcissa.

"Yes, you _did_," Sirius insisted. "You were supposed to go with James, Andy was supposed to go with me, and Bella was supposed to go with Remus."

"But they never asked us," Narcissa repeated, enunciating each syllable as if talking to an idiot. "You can't ask girls to balls by proxy, Sirius. If James wanted to go with me, he should have asked me himself."

"But Narse..."

"No buts," she snapped. "Tell your friends to learn how to be gentlemen. Then maybe they'll be able to get dates."

Sirius sighed. "What am I supposed to tell James and Remus, huh?" he asked.

"That's your problem, not mine," Narcissa informed him. "And now, if you'll excuse me, _some_ of us want to get to Divination on time." And with that, she turned around and stalked off downthe hallway, blonde curls bouncing up and down her back.

Left behind, Sirius leaned on the wall and shut his eyes, rubbing his temples as if the situation were a real, rather than metaphorical, headache. He probably should have seen it coming. Everybody knew that Narcissa had a crush on Lucius Malfoy, although what she saw in the rat-faced bastard was utterly beyond Sirius' ken. But when he'd asked his three cousins, way back at Christmas time, to go to the Ball with himself and his friends, he'd thought it was a done deal. Who knew they were waiting for James and Remus to actually ASK them? It wasn't as if this was some big gooey-gooey romantic thing... it was just a matter of status. Hogwarts' most popular and handsome boys - as the Marauders modestly knew themselves to be - ought to go to the Graduation Ball with the most popular and beautiful girls.

But though that might make perfect sense to Sirius, it apparently hadn't looked the same to Andy, Bella, and Narse. And here it was with only two weeks until the Ball, and suddenly, Sirius and his friends no longer had dates.

What alternatives were there? He bit his lip and thought hard. Helene LeVerrier was going with Donald Parkinson. Diana Brown was going withThomas Lovegood. IantheCraddock was going with Marcus Zabini... and those three, together with the triplets, representedone hundred percentof all the girls in Hogwarts whom the Marauders considered worth a second look. Take them away, and all you had left were dogs, freaks, and she-nerds.

"Oh, Merlin," he said. "They're gonna kill me."

* * *

"What do you mean she has a date?" demanded James.

"I mean," said Sirius, "she has a date. Lucius Malfoy asked her to go to the Graduation Ball with him, and she said yes. What do you expect me to do about it?"

James sat down heavily in one of the Gryffindor common room's overstuffed chairs and sighed. "So why did she say yes to me way back in December if she was just going to change her mind?"

"Well, that's the thing," Sirius explained. "She never actually said yes to _you_. She told_me_ she would say yes to you when you asked her, and you never asked her."

"Did I have to?" asked James.

"Apparently," said Sirius. "Don't ask me why, it doesn't make any sense to me, either."

Remus was slumped in another chair with a book in his lap. "What about the other two?" he asked.

"Narse said they couldn't keep holding out after she already had a date," said Sirius. "So they're going with Theodore Tonks and Rudolphus LeStrange. Don't blame me," he added. "This was not my fault. I had no idea they were going to decide we had to go all mooshy and _ask_. And don't ask me what we do now, because I have no ideas. Diana, Helene, and Ianthe are all taken, too."

"You could go stag," suggested Peter.

Sirius and James both turned their heads and looked at him in a way that would have served quite nicely to shoot down _that _idea all on its own. "Are you insane?" James asked, exaggeratedly polite. "Malfoy would never let us hear the end of it."

"Well, we're only going to be here another couple of months," said Peter.

"That doesn't mean anything," sighed Remus.

"Trust me," said James. "Malfoy will think of nice, unsubtle ways to remind us of it, again and again, for the rest of our natural lives." He sat up straight and steepled his fingers, thinking hard. "Okay, guys, this is an emergency. We are _not _going dateless to that ball, and we are _not _going with ugly girls, fat girls, or loser girls. So what are we going to do? I'm open to suggestions."

Remus closed his book and looked at the ceiling a moment. "I think..." he began.

"Yes?" James prompted.

But Remus shook his head. "Forget it. It's a dumb idea."

"Dumb ideas are better than no ideas," said James.

"That's right," agreed Sirius, who'd learned that Remus' ideas, no matter how odd they might sound on the surface, were almost always worth listening to. "Come on, Reme."

"Well, I was thinking," Remus said, "what about the Room of Requirement? It's supposed to provide you with whatever you need, right? Although it's probably stretching it to think it can get us dates." He shrugged.

The Room of Requirement was something the boys had discovered while working on their map of Hogwarts. It was an indispensible hiding place, and had also made an excellent spot to practice their animagus transformations... but it didn't seem like a very likely dating service. Still, Sirius found himself wondering what he'd find there if he looked with that in mind.

James nodded slowly. "You're right," he said. "It's a dumb idea."

"I warned you," said Remus.

"James," said Peter. "Why don't you ask Lily Evans?"

"Because she'll just laugh at me again." James slumped back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Besides, Kotone Kobayashi told me she already said she'd go with Snivellus Snape. Now back to the point, please - does anybody have any _good _ideas?"

"Nope," sighed Sirius.

"That's all I've got," said Remus.

Peter shook his head.

"Well, we've got two weeks," said James. "We'll think of SOMETHING. If Malfoy thinks he can get the better of us, we've got another think for him. Right, guys?"

"Right," Remus and Sirius agreed in unison.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't that he thought the Room of Requirement would get him a date, Sirius told himself as he paused outside of it with his hand on the knob. After all, that was just ridiculous, not to mention he was more than capable of finding a date through other means. He was just curious, that was all. Remus had mentioned it, and now he just wanted to know. 

Not that there wasn't something quite appealing about the thought of opening the door and finding a room full of gorgeous girls. But Sirius was not about to get his hopes up.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

To his surprise, he found the room almost empty. It was quite a bit smaller than it had been when they'd used it for transformation practice, and the ceiling was tilted as if the room were right up under the roof... which was ridiculous, because Sirius knew very well it was on the ground floor. The room was dusty and cobwebby, with bare stone walls and plain wooden floor, and absolutely empty except for a small, square table on which was a single lit candle in a mason jar, and a small black book.

Sirius stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and picked up the book. It was clearly rather old - the corners were tattered and the pages dog-eared. The edges had been gilded once, but what little was left was all but unrecognizable as such, and the cover was plain, soft leather, with tht title _Shakespeare to Hardy_ embossed on it in gold.

"Poetry?" Sirius asked out loud. "You've _got_ to be kidding me." What did the Room think he was, some kind of poetic hero? Not bloody likely. There had to be something else going on here... he opened the book for a look.

To his surprise, he discovered that it in fact belonged to somebody: inside the front cover was a yellowing bookplate declaring that the Richmond County School for Girls had awarded this book to Dorothy Lawrence as a prize for excellence in mathematics... in 1938.

"Nineteen thirty eight?" he asked in disbelief. What the hell was the point of giving him a book of mushy poetry belonging to some witch who would be fifty or sixty years old by now? He certainly wasn't going to go to any balls with _her_.

Disgusted, Sirius dropped the book back on the table and started to stomp out of the room, but then changed his mind and tucked the little volume into his bag before leaving. Maybe he could turn it in at the lost and found... you generally got a couple of House Points for doing that, although in this case he doubted the owner would ever come for it. Dorothy Lawrence in 1938 had probably been the last idiot who'd wandered into the Room of Requirement looking for a date.

"That took long enough," said James, as Sirius slipped back into the History of Magic classroom and sat down beside him. "What did you do, fall in?"

"No... uh..." Sirius thought fast. "I couldn't use the downstairs bathroom because Moaning Myrtle was in there for some reason. So I tried to go upstairs, and the staircase changed on me."

James grinned. "Good old Hogwarts! Where else can you actually get lost on the way to the loo?"

Professor Binns paused in chalking up notes about the Court Sorcerers of Henry VIII and glanced back over one semi-transparent shoulder. "Are you paying attention, gentlemen, or do I have to repeat that?"

"We're fine," said Remus quickly, as James and Sirius quickly settled down and tried to look busy.

Fortunately, prenteding to listen to Professor Binns was something Sirius was very good at. All he had to do, after all, was have a textbook and notebook open on his desk, and keep glancing at one while working in the other. He accomplished this by slipping a 'Hulderbrand the Animagus' or 'Wizard Detective Peregrine' comic book into his text, and charming the panels to stand still so that he could draw copies of them in his notes.

He was in the middle of what was, if he did say so himself, one of his better drawings of Hulderbrand's wolf transformation when James' handwriting appeared on a corner of the notepaper. _Any more ideas how we get dates?_ it said.

Sirius wondered for a moment if he should mention going into the Room of Requirement... but James would tease him if he did, and he hadn't found anything useful. _No_, he wrote back, and then after a moment's thought added, _Andy has a Makeover Mirror. If we're stuck with ugly girls, maybe we could use that._

He touched the page with his wand and murmured the spell to send it back to James. After a moment, the reply appeared: _Only as a last resort_.

_Agreed_, said Sirius. _It's cheating, anway_.

Remus' tidy had materalized next: _Has anybody but me considered actually apologizing to the triplets?_

Sirius had not in fact thought of that... he'd just assumed that Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix were now entirely out of the realm of possibilities. And now that he did think about it, something in him rebelled at the concept. He and his friends were, after all, the infamous Marauders! They didn't apologize... especially not to stuck-up girls who thought it was fun to leave them dateless two weeks before the ball! Sirius would rather _die _than apologize to Andy for this... _she _was the one who'd gotten the wrong idea.

Fortunately, he wasn't alone in thinking so._Why should we apologize to them?_James asked. _They're the ones being difficult_.

_Exactly_, Sirius wrote.

_We've got to lure them back to us_, said James, _not crawl back to them_.

Sirius frowned - apparently, he hadn't been on the same page as _either_ of his friends... but 'get the triplets back' was certainly a lot better than no plan at all. How to do it, though?

Most of the rest of History of Magic was devoted to brainstorming... flowers were suggested, as were chocolates and poetry - the latter by Sirius, who wondered if that were maybe why the Room of Requirement had given him that book - but James turned down all three as being too much like apologizing. Knowing James, Sirius suspected they were going to end up with some brilliant scheme for humiliating Malfoy, Ted, and Rudy in front of the entire student body. But it would be James himself who'd come up with the plan; that was how it worked. James was the mastermind, and Remus and Sirius carried things out.

By the end of History of Magic, however, James had not yet had a eureka moment, and the boys set off for the Great Hall with the gloomy knowledge that there was now _less _than two weeks - just thirteen days, a terribly inauspicious number- until the ball, and they remained dateless.

"A love potion?" James suggested as they headed off to Study Period with the Hufflepuffs. "Just a temporary one, of course."

Sirius shook his head. "Nah. That's cheating, too."

"Better than Andromeda's Makeover Mirror," Remus pointed out, though he didn't sound as if he liked the idea.

"Well, yeah," said Sirius, but he wasn't comfortable with it, either. Love potions were hard to make and could go wrong in all kinds of bizarre and often painful ways. "There's got to be something better, though."

The boys sat down at their usual table in the corner, where they could talk and plan out of sight of the hawk-eyed librarian. "Well, since we're here, we might as well look," said James. "I'll bet there's something in the advanced potions section. You two make some noise, okay? The librarian will get suspicious if it's quiet back here."

"I don't know, James..." Remus began.

"I'm only going to look," James interrupted. "I didn't say we'll actually do it, I just want to _look_. No harm in just _looking_, right? We did a thing on love potions earlier this year. Maybe it'll be on the final. There's nothing wrong with looking."

"I guess not," sighed Remus.

"I'll be right back," James promised, and wandered off into the forest of shelves.

"Don't worry, Reme," said Sirius. "He'd not actually gonna brew it. He'll think of something else."

"I hope so," said Remus, propping up his arithmancy textbook so it covered his face. Remus had always been intensely uncomfortable with spells and potions designed to make people do things against their normal character - even things like truth potions bothered him. They reminded him too much of his own curse.

Sirius reached into his bag for one of his own books, but what his fingers fell on was the little book of poetry he'd found in the Room of Requirement. Frowning, he pulled it out for another look. Perhaps he'd missed something in looking at it before? He began flipping pages at random, looking for some clue to what he was supposed to do with it... preferably a clue that didn't involve making a fool of himself by reciting poems to anybody.

At this point he really wasn't expecting to find anything, but as it turned out, there was a sheet of folded foolscap tucked between pages 364 and 364. Sirius pulled it out for a look - in somebody's carefully neat printing was a list of Latin vocabulary words to study for charms class... and the date in the corner was last monday.

Interesting. So this book had in fact belonged to somebody more recently than Dorothy Lawrence in 1938. It was starting to seem like this book was some kind of riddle he was meant to solve, and the solution would get him a date for the ball. Maybe he was supposed to find... but that train of thought was cut off before completion when he noticed the poem printed on page 365; one of Shakespeare's sonnets.

_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the Sun  
Coral is far more red than her lips' red  
If snow be white, why then her skin be dun  
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head  
I have seen roses damasked, red and white  
But no such roses see I in her cheeks  
And in some perfumes there is more delight  
Than in the breath with which my mistress speaks  
I love to hear her voice, yet well I know  
That music hath a far more pleasing sound  
I grant I never saw a goddess go  
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground  
And yet, by Heaven, I think our love as rare  
As any she belied with false compare_

Oh, for crying out... Sirius grimaced and closed the book again. _That _was the point of the entire exercise? The stupid book was a way of telling him that he was going to have to swallow his pride and date a dog? Well, if whatever pseudo-intelligence inhabited the Room of Requirement really thought he was going to do that because of a book of poems, it could go stuff...

"Excuse me," said a voice.

Sirius looked up; a Hufflepuff girl was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at the book. He quickly stuffed it back into his bag, feeling his ears heat up as he did - great, now everybody was going to think he was some sappy dork who read poetry. "What?" he asked.

She pointed into the bag. "Where did you get that book?" she asked.

"I found it," he said. "It's not mine."

"I know," said the girl, and held out her hand. "It's mine."


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius sat staring at the girl for a moment. So_this_ was the answer to the riddle; he was supposed to give the book back to its owner and then ask_her_ to the ball? Well, that would have been justdandy... providedthe girl were remotely attractive. Unfortunately, bythe standards of a boy accustomed to having his pick of Hogwarts' resident goddesses, she wasn't even worth a first look, never mind a second. 

She was... short. And skinny; not skinny as in 'delicately curvy' but skinny as in 'no tits whatsoever'. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, in a fat, kinky braid, and she had over-large gray-green eyes that made her look like she was staring. The Hufflepuff badge on her robes was just the cherry of Boring on a big sundae of Average. If he could have, Sirius would have turned around and pretended he hadn't seen her.

But she was still standing there with her hand out, waiting for him to hand over the book. "May I please have it back?" she asked. "It belonged to my grandmother."

Something in Sirius was tempted to say 'finders, keepers', but if he did, she might tell one of the professors he'd stolen the book... and worse, she might think he actually_read_ this mushy crap. So he pulled it out again and shoved it into her hands. "Here," he said. "I was going to give it to the lost and found anyway."

She almost snatched it and held it against her chest as if hugging it. "Thank you," she said.

"Uh... you're welcome," said Sirius. And then, because she seemed to expect something else, he added, "you should put your name in it or something. So if you lose it again, people will know who to give it back to."

She nodded. "Probably, yeah... I just sort of think of it as Grandma's, not mine. She used to read to me from it when I was little."

Sirius looked the girl over again; short, skinny, sallow, big-eyed, and sentimental... and the Room of Requirement was trying to set him up with her? Like hell. Still, something in him couldn't resist asking, "do you have a date for the Graduation Ball?"

Her eyes opened even wider. "No," she said slowly, her face confused. "Do you?"

"Of course I do," he replied quickly.

"Then why did you ask?" she wanted to know.

"Just curious," said Sirius. He shrugged and dug into his bag for a textbook. "Enjoy your poems," he said, burying his face in arithmancy. The girl didn't reply, and when Sirius risked a glance up, a few seconds later, he found she was gone. He exhaled, relieved - now if only his luck held, maybe nobody had noticed him talking to her.

But of course one person had - Remus Lupin. "Who was that?" he asked, peering at Sirius over the top of his textbook.

"Nobody," Sirius replied, meaning it.

"Nobody you almost asked to the ball," Remus pointed out.

"No, I didn't," said Sirius. "I had no intention of asking her to anything. I don't even know her name. I'm just... seeing what's likely to be left, in case we can't get the triplets back." That sounded rather lame even to Sirius, and when he looked up at Remus' face, he found that his friend appeared to be thinking the exact same thing. "Can I ask you a question?" said Sirius.

Remus shrugged. "Sure."

"When you said we could try the Room of Requirement looking for dates, what exactly did you expect us to find in there?"

"Not books of poetry, if that's what you mean," said Remus. Damn him and his apparent ability to read Sirius' mind! "I don't know, it was mostly a joke, really. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," said Sirius, although he knew damn well that Remus knew_exactly_ what he'd done. "Don't tell James, okay?"

"I won't," promised Remus. "The girl's name is Rosalie Cranmer, if you wanted to know."

Sirius was about to say that he hadn't, when a heavy book bound in pink leather dropped onto the table, startling him and Remus both and nearly upsetting Remus' inkwell.

"Here we go!" announced James, brushing off his hands. "_Love Potions; Foundations and Variations for the Advanced Student_. There ought to be something useful in here!" He sat down, cracked it open, and began to flip through the pages.

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, then shook his head and looked down at his own textbook again. The sound of laughter at a nearby table made him look up, though, and when he did he saw Rosalie Cranmer sitting with some friends, who were all giggling madly about some private joke. Great, just great... she'd probably just told them about how Sirius Black, one of Hogwarts' Big Men on Campus, had asked her if she had a date.

He was never, ever going to live this down, was he?

---

Remus often wondered if Sirius realized just how transparent he was sometimes. Only a fool could possibly have heard him ask about the Room of Requirement right after his conversation with poor Rosalie and _not_ have figured out where he'd found that book. Remus might have promised not to tell James, but it was a pretty good bet that James would find out anyway... Sirius would do or say something that would make it obvious.

Although even if he figured it out, James might not believe it... even Remus hadn't quite been certain until Sirius had admitted it by asking him not to tell. Remus had, as he'd said, suggested the Room of Requirement mostly in jest, and actually trying it seemed like a very un-Sirius-like thing to do. Sirius and James both had far too much pride to lower themselves to such a thing.

But it seemed Sirius had looked indeed, and found Rosalie's book of poetry. That seemed like a strange thing for the Room to offer him, and made Remus wonder exactly what had been on Sirius' mind when he opened the door. The Room of Requirement had always intrigued Remus - James and Sirius always said that _how_ things like that worked didn't really matter just so long as they _did_, but Remus liked to know. What was wrong, after all, with wanting to know just so he'd _know_?

It was with that in mind that Remus decided to go check it out for himself. He doubted he'd have much more success than Sirius - even if the Room_did_ get him a date, it wouldn't be one James and Sirius would approve of - but he wanted to see what it would give him.

But like Sirius, he wasn't about to go at a time when his friends might find out where he was. He waited until after dinner, and then made the excuse that he'd left a book in the library so he could go and take a look without anybody suspecting.

After using it for animagus practice for years, the Marauders knew the location of the Room of Requirement by heart. Remus paused outside for a moment to fix in his mind that he needed a date for the Graduation Ball, then opened the door.

Inside, the Room was a library. Sunset light was coming in through tall stained-glass windows, illuminating rows of bookcases. At the far end from the door was a huge stone fireplace with a bear rug on the floor in front of it, and sitting cross-legged on the rug was a girl with her back to the door.

Remus stood still, not sure what to do next. But he had to do something, so he cleared his throat. "Um... hello?" he asked.

The girl glanced back, then scrambled to her feet. She was wearing a Ravenclaw uniform, and had limp, dishwater-blonde hair that fell in eyes hidden behind huge eyeglasses. Remus didn't recognize her - she wasn't in any of his classes. Perhaps she was in a younger year. Whoever she was, she looked terrified.

"Sorry," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She relaxed a little. "It's okay," she said. "You just startled me. I've never seen anybody else in here before."

"Neither have I," said Remus. "I thought my friends and I were the only ones who knew about it." He bit his lip. "Do you want me to leave?"

The girl looked like she wanted to say yes, but then she shrugged. "No," she said. "It's not like this is my private library or anything." She sat down again. "I can't tell you not to use it."

Remus shut the door behind him. "Well, technically," he said, "it_is_ your private library. This is the Room of Requirement," he explained. "It becomes whatever you need it to be."

"Ohhhh!" she said, as if that suddenly cleared up a big mystery - and apparently it did. "You know, I kept telling my friends there was another library in the school, and none of them could ever find it! Even Professor Flitwick told me I had to be mistaken! I just ran across it one day when I wanted somewhere to study alone." She looked around at the bookshelves. "It's usually something different when you use it?"

"My friends and I have been using it to practice transfiguration when we didn't want to be interrupted," replied Remus. "Or sometimes to hide from the Custodian when we don't want to get in trouble."

The girl smiled.

"What's your name?" Remus asked her.

"Vivian Calibourne," she extended a hand.

Remus took it and gave it a gentle shake. "Remus Lupin," he replied. "Nice to meet you."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, while waiting for breakfast, Sirius felt an odd tingle on the back of his neck. He looked over his shoulder and sure enough, Andromeda Black was glaring down at him. Nobody in his right mind could have argued that Andy was anything but drop-dead gorgeous, but she could administer the Evil Eye in ways that made you understand why people had once believed it could kill. 

All things considered, he had a _strong_ suspicion that she wasn't here to apologize and ask him to the ball.

"Good morning, Andy," he said cautiously.

"Was that James I saw reading a book about love potions yesterday?" she asked, hands on her perfectly curved hips. Merlin, but she was beautiful... if she hadn't been Sirius' cousin, he might just have been willing to _go_ for some of that mushy stuff if he thought it might give him a chance.

"How am I supposed to know?" asked Sirius. "I wasn't there when you saw him, was I?"

Andy gave him another look that he was grateful couldn't kill. "What exactly is wrong with you guys?" she asked. "First you can't be bothered to actually get off your rear ends and actually _ask_ us to the dance with you, and then when your stupidity catches up with you, you stoop to looking up _love potions_?"

"That was James' idea, not mine," said Sirius. "Remus and I are trying to talk him out of it."

"Oh, yes?" asked Andy. "Well, you might mention to him that we're well-versed in antidotes."

"You are?" this came as a surprise to Sirius, but it probably shouldn't have. Of _course_ the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts knew all about love potions and their antidotes! There could have been great trouble if they didn't.

"We are," she affirmed. "And as long as you're trying to convince him to get his fat head out of his arse, you might also suggest that if he _really_ wants Narse for his date that badly, he might try actually _wooing_ her. You and Lupin might do the same. The world doesn't exist to hand you stuff on silver platters, you know. Once in a while, you actually have to _work_ for something - imagine that!"

"What do you want us to do?" Sirius asked sarcastically, "get down on our knees and recite poetry?"

Andromeda looked startled for a moment, but then her gorgeous lips curved into a smile. "Okay, sure," she said.

Sirius blinked.

"Yes, I do want you to do that," Andy clarified. "In fact, I want you to do it right now."

He looked around in a panic - breakfast hadn't started yet, and only the early risers were in the Great Hall yet. Not even James and Remus had arrived yet... but those who were present would see, and they'd talk. Dammit, was the world just out to embarrass him this week?

On the other hand... twelve days left, and no sign of a date but this.

"Right here, right now?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "Right here, right now, with everybody watching. You swallow your pride, kneel down, and recite a poem for me, and not only will I go to the ball with you, I'll never even look at Teddy Tonks again. How's that?"

That was a big promise. Ted Tonks had been Andy's best friend at Hogwarts since first year, when she hadn't really been old enough to understand why it was her parents disapproved of him. By the time she _had _figured it out, their friendship was already cemented, and the idea that she was actually considering _marrying _this Muggleborn nobody sent shivers up and down the spines of the elder members of the Black family. Quite a few of them would have actually preferred that she persue a relationship with Sirius, her first cousin, rather than date Theodore Tonks.

But to promise never to talk to him again, Andy must really, _really _think Sirius was not up to doing what she'd just asked him to do.... and frankly, he was not. He'd rather let her marry the oaf and be disowned for it than humiliate himself like that.

However... a chill crept over him as he realized something else: by now this conversation had a large and interested audience, and whatever he did, they would gossip about it. If word reached his parents' or grandparents' ears that Andy had promised never to see Ted Tonks again if Sirius did something, and that he then _hadn't done it_... not that it was his fault she was being so damn unreasonable, but his family wouldn't see that. All they would see was another excuse to pick on him.

Bloody hell.

"Very well." Sirius decided that if he had to do this, he'd try to pass it off as a bit of a joke. Maybe that way he could escape the brunt of the ridicule. He got up, bowed, and then theatrically kneeled down in front of Andy... all before realizing that he didn't know very many poems. "What would my lady have me recite?" he asked. Something that started with _roses are red, violets are blue _probably wouldn't cut it.

"What?" she asked, "can my noble knight not choose something on his own?"

"I kinda only know one poem," said Sirius. The horrible thing had somehow burned its way into his head, probably because reading it had made him so angry. And he doubted it was a good one to use here.

"Who's it by?" asked Andy.

"Shakespeare," said Sirius.

She snorted. "You read Shakespeare?"

"A little," he said defensively. One poem, to be exact.

"All right," she said. "Let's hear it."

Sirius took a deep breath. "_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the Sun_," he recited, "_coral is far more red than her lips' red_..." He kept his eyes down, feeling his cheeks burning, and got as far as the line about _no such roses in her cheeks _before he dared to look up, and stopped short as he saw the look on Andy's face.

"Are you calling me ugly?" she asked.

"No," said Sirius. "I told you I only knew one poem! You didn't specify it had to be _nice _poetry."

Andy stared at him in disbelief a moment longer, then shook her head. "You are _such _an idiot," she said, and turned around and stomped off back to the Slytherin table to join her sisters.

"Sirius?" asked James' voice. "What the hell are you doing?"

While Sirius was reciting the stupid sonnet to Andy, James and Remus had come to take their seats for breakfast. It was impossible to tell how much of the scene they'd witnessed, but however much it might have been, it was too much for Sirius. His face was flaming with indignation as he got up and took his seat again.

"Sirius?" James asked again.

"Andy wanted me to recite poetry for her," Sirius snarled, "and apparently she didn't like the poem I picked. I told her it was the only one I knew, but is that good enough for her? Noooooo."

"Why bother?" asked James. "It's Andy. All you have to do is tattle to your aunt and uncle that she's going with Tonks. They'll forbid it, and then she'll be stuck with you."

Sirius remained silent for a moment, scrutinizing his friend's face for any sign that he was joking, but there was none. Surely James wasn't dumb enough to suggest that seriously? "Are you nuts?" asked Sirius. "She'd never talk to me again. She'd date... she'd date_Hagrid _before she'd date me." He shook his head and changed the subject. "What happened to you last night, Remus? You wandered off and never came back."

"The staircase changed and I got lost," said Remus in a monotone. He looked Sirius right in the eye as he spoke.

"Ah," said Sirius, nodding. "Find any lost poetry books lying around?"

"None you would have been intersted to read," replied Remus.

James looked at one of his friends, then the other. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

"Possibly," said Remus. "Speaking of which, I'm going to be skipping lunch today. I promised one of the sixth year Ravenclaws I'd help her with a Defense Against the Dark Arts essay."

James considered that for a minute. "Sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts... let me guess, the werewolf essay?"

"I figure _somebody _might as well profit from it," said Remus.

Almost everybody was in the hall by now, and breakfast was served a few minutes later. Sirius helped himself to bacon and eggs, and tried to ignore the ever-omnipresent sound of girls giggling; he just _knew _they were giggling about _him_. It would not, however, be ignored... and when he foolishly glanced at the Slytherin table, he saw the triplets laughing uproariously about something. And just to rub it in, Andy said something to her sisters while pointing at Sirius. Great. Just great.

His jaw hardened. Fine - Andy wanted poetry, she would _get _poetry. He probably couldn't embarrass himself any more now, and there would be something terribly satisfying about holding her to her promise never to see Ted Tonks again, even if it would mean she'd hate him forever afterwards. He would damn well find the mushiest stupid poem on earth and recite it for her in front of the whole school. The library didn't carry books of poetry, so he would have to find somebody who owned one and was willing to lend it to him. Or he could try the Room of...

His thoughts screeched to a halt, and he brightened a bit as he realized that it was entirely possible the Room of Requirement hadn't wanted him to date the Hufflepuff girl at all! Maybe he was just supposed to borrow her poetry book to appease Andy... but then his mood went back downhill as he remembered that he had, after all, given the book _back _to her. Now he was going to have to talk to her again in order to borrow it back!

"What was the name of the girl with the book again?" he asked Remus.

"Rosalie Cranmer," Remus replied.

"Rosalie Cranmer," Sirius repeated, concentrating on remembering it this time.

James looked annoyed. "Do you two want to tell me what you're up to?"

"We're not up to anything," Remus and Sirius replied in unison.

James frowned. "Fine, then." He leaned his elbows on the table, obviously sulking. "Have it your way."

Sirius concentrated on his breakfast and quietly reminded himself of what Regulus always said: that which didn't kill him, made him stronger. By the time the ball arrived, he'd either have died of embarrassment or become totally immune to it. He just wished he knew which he'd prefer.


	5. Chapter 5

Fortunately for Sirius, the seventh-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had Herbology class together first thing that morning. As the class filed into the greenhouses, Sirius stepped off to the side so he could nab Rosalie Cranmer on her way by. As she passed, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the line to talk to. 

"Hi," he said. "I need to talk to you."

"Uh..." she glanced at the greenhouse door. "Is this going to take very long?"

"No." Sirius shook his head. "No, it won't. I just need to borrow your grandmother's book."

Rosalie Cranmer gave him a suspicious look. "What? Did you_steal_ it the first time?" she asked in dismay.

"What would give you that idea?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Well, you were reciting poetry to the red-haired Slytherin girl at breakfast this morning," said Rosalie Cranmer. "She didn't like it, so now you want to try again with a different poem, but you know better than to think I'll just leave Grandma's book lying around again."

Sirius met her gaze for a moment, then quickly looked away - sheesh, she could have given Andy a run for her money in a 'looks that could kill' contest, and unlike Andy, she managed it without actually having to _glare_. Her eyes were wide open, but looking into them nevertheless made Sirius squirm. Whatever happened to Hufflepuffs being thick and wussy? That was the impression Sirius had always gotten of them until now.

"No," he said, "that is_not_ what happened. I found the book by accident" - not that_that_ was exactly true - "and that's what made me think of trying to recite poetry to apologize to Andy. I _swear_," he added, seeing her doubting face. "That's what happened! But you're right about the rest... she didn't like the poem. So I need another one. I just need to borrow the damn book for two seconds. You can_watch_ me if you like. Do you really think I'm that dumb, that I'd steal a book and then ask for it back?"

"Yes," said Rosalie Cranmer.

He shook his head. "Look, my last class today is potions with the Slytherins. I'll stay behind to ask Professor Duncan a question, and then I'll meet you outside after everybody else has gone. And_don't_ tell anybody I talked to you, okay?"

"Who are you, James Bond?" asked Rosalie Cranmer.

"Who?" asked Sirius.

She sighed. "All right, I'll meet you. But I swear," she added, holding up a finger in his face, "if you do _anything _to Grandma's book, I will hex your face inside out!"

There wasn't really anything about that threat that made it necessarily worse than any other 'or else...' a young wizard might encounter on a given day... maybe it was just the way she said it in such a perfectly calm voice that made him feel a bit sick. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I just need a poem and then I'll give it right back."

"Good," she nodded.

He stepped back. "You go in ahead of me."

She gave him another glare that could have withered a houseplant, and went ahead of him into the greenhouse without a word. Sirius waited a few seconds - he'd prefer if as few people as possible knew that he'd been talking to her - and then followed her in.

Professor Mugwort smiled as he stepped inside. "Oh, and here's Mr. Black!" she exclaimed. "Excellent! Now, as I was just explaining to everybody who got here _on time_, we will be pruning the sapient pear trees today. The _punctual _students have already gotten into pairs, so it looks as if Mr. Black and Miss Cramer will be working together."

"_What_?" asked Sirius out loud.

"Mr. Black," said Professor Mugwort, "if you wanted to choose your own partner, you should have been here on time. Now go and get your gloves and clippers."

He exchanged a glance with Rosalie Cranmer, and found her looking just as horrified as he at the idea of having to work together. On the far side of the room, James and Remus were snickering. Bastards!

"I did _not _plan this," he whispered to his new partner, as they both grabbed a pair of gloves.

"I wouldn't have thought you _had _if you hadn't mentioned it," she replied.

Remus' hand rose. "Professor Mugwort," he said innocently, "I have a question: the sapient pear trees are a long-term project, right? We'll be studying them the rest of the school year?"

"Until your NEWTs, yes," the professor nodded.

"Are we supposed to keep the same partner the entire time?" Remus' voice positively dripped with sincerity, but he was looking right at Sirius. Sirius badly wanted to crawl under the table.

"Of course," said Professor Mugwort. "How am I supposed to grade your work otherwise?"

Oh, yes... this was going to be a bad day.

The herbology class was one of the most painful hours of Sirius' life. Time moved so slowly that Sirius honestly began wondering if one of his so-called friends had put a charm on the greenhouse clock to stop it. Rosalie Cranmer did her best to pretend that everything was quite normal, but he refused to do likewise or even to speak to her. The only way he communicated was to snatch things from her when he thought she was doing something wrong. And while she may not have known what to think when he'll pulled her aside, it was plenty plain that by the end of class, she despised him as much as he did her.

He wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or not. Girls were supposed to _like _Sirius Black - he was one of the three most handsome boys at Hogwarts! But he wasn't supposed to like them back, except for a select few. His reputation as a ladies' man might be ruined by Rosalie Cranmer disliking him, but his reputation as a man of taste would _certainly _be ruined if he showed any signs of liking _her_.

Fortunately, Herbology did eventually end, and then there would be no more classes with the Hufflepuffs for the rest of the day As soon as the bell rang, he was officially free of her, and tried not to think about having to work with her every single Herbology class for the next month as he hurried off to Care of Magical Creatures.

But some higher power had apparently decided that this would be the day from hell. Ten minutes into class, Sirius got squirted with ink from an Invisible Squid, and had to go to the hospital wing to have his head, shoulders, and right arm made visible again. Even with Madam Pomfrey's best efforts, he was still somewhat transparent as he headed off to transfiguration. There, Professor McGonagall had them turning teasets into various types of eggs. Sirius managed to make a goose egg out of the sugar bowl, but in trying to turn the teapot into an ostrich egg, he got an alligator egg... which immediately hatched, and its inhabitant bit him.

By the time potions rolled around, he was quite sure that nothing further could go wrong... but it did anyway. While Professor Duncan droned on about the many uses for the juice of golden apples, Sirius took out his frustration by charming the words the professor was chalking on the blackboard to rearrange themselves into a caricature of her. There shouldn't have been any possible way she could have known it was him... but she glanced at the drawing, and then without even turning around said, "detention, Mr. Black."

So at the end of the day, there he was, scrubbing sticky, smelly golden apple juice out of cauldrons with a hand transparent enough to read through. Sirius tried to look on the bright side by noting that at least he wouldn't have to talk to Rosalie Cranmer again today... she would wait for him a while, decide he'd stood her up, and walk off mad, and then maybe she wouldn't try to talk to him in herbology again, either. He could probably find a poem elsewhere. Asking her about it had been a stupid idea to begin with.

But halfway down the third cauldron, he realized somebody was watching him... and when he looked up, there she was in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sirius.

"You asked me to meet you," she replied.

"Well, yeah," he said, "but in case you didn't notice, I'm in detention."

"You never said that meant you didn't want me to show up," she pointed out.

"I didn't think you were going to anyway," he said. After the way he'd treated her this morning, she ought to hate him. Why had she bothered coming?

She shook her head. "I said I'd be here, and here I am, doing what I said I'd do. It's a Hufflepuff thing - I guess a Gryffindor wouldn't understand."

"A Gryffindor wouldn't do something that dumb," said Sirius.

"No, a Gryffindor wouldn't do a favour for a stranger," said Rosalie calmly. "They're always too worried about doing favours for themselves."

"We are not!"

"Gryffindors," Rosalie sat down on a desk, her grandmother's book in her lap, "are egotistical and foolhardy. Slytherins are cowardly jerks, and Ravenclaws are nerds who can't function in the real world." She didn't say this as if she believed any of it. It sounded more like she was testing for his reaction.

"And Hufflepuffs are as thick as two short planks," said Sirius sourly. "But since you're here, can you stop insulting me and just lend me the stupid book?"

She nodded, then opened the book and began flipping through it. "What kind of poem did you want?"

"Something not mushy," said Sirius.

"Not mushy?" she said. "Well, _there's _your problem, right there! No wonder she turned you down. If you want to impress your lady love, it _needs _to be mushy."

"She's _not _my lady love," snarled Sirius. "She's my _cousin_, actually. We have absolutely no designs on each other, it's just that my friends and I _always _go to things with the triplets, which makes it especially stupid that she wants me to pretend I'm courting her!"

"But she obviously wants a mushy poem, because she didn't like it when you tried one that wasn't," Rosalie pointed out. She then closed her book and thought for a moment. "Andromeda Black has red hair, doesn't she?"

"Yes," said Sirius, wondering how anybody could possibly need reminding. Andy had the reddest hair at Hogwarts.

"Then I know just the thing," said Rosalie, smiling for the first time. "It's from _Romeo and Juliet_."

Sirius stared at her, hoping she was joking - but if she was, it didn't show. "You have _got _to be kidding me."

"Juliet had red hair," Rosalie said. "When Romeo first sees her, he says:" she shut her eyes and recited,

_O! She doth teach the torches to burn bright!  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night  
As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear!  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!  
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows  
As yonder lady over her fellows shows!  
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand  
And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand  
Did my heart love til now? Forswear it, sight!  
For I never saw true beauty until this night!_

Sirius was actually sort of impressed. He had hardly _understood _the archaic language of that, and very much doubted his ability to memorize it. That Rosalie could recite it off the top of her head was rather amazing. And he had no doubt Andy would love it... but he couldn't see himself reciting it in front of hundreds of his peers. The very thought made him shudder.

"Does your cousin like Shakespeare?" asked Rosalie.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. Shakespeare was a Muggle, wasn't he? Her parents probably wouldn't approve."

"Well, that's their loss," Rosalie said lightly. "You better keep scrubbing that cauldron, and I'll say the lines and you can repeat them back until you know them, all right?"

"Right," agreed Sirius. No matter HOW this turned out, he was never, _ever _going to live it down, was he?


	6. Chapter 6

While Sirius and Rosalie recited poetry back and forth to each other in the potions dungeon, Remus was sitting cross-legged on the bear rug in Vivian's Library (as he thought of this particular version of the Room of Requirement), watching her flip through a book about werewolves. 

He liked Vivian already. There seemed to be quite a bit to like about her; she was organized and thorough, and appeared to think carefully before she spoke. Furthermore, she wasn't very likely to try to push him into doing anything against his better judgement, and when she asked him questions, she actually paused to let him answer instead of continuing the conversation without him. Remus felt rather guilty for comparing her to his two best friends... but as much as he loved James and Sirius and was grateful for their acceptance of him, they got to be a little overwhelming sometimes. Vivian's quiet company was refreshing, and based on what he'd seen of her so far, Remus liked her very much indeed.

In fact, it was starting to worry him. It really _shouldn't _have... in fact, if anything, it ought to have been reassuring. Remus was, after all, a seventeen-year-old boy, and seventeen-year-old boys tend to have rather limited interests, but Remus had never met a girl who made him respond the way, say, James responded to Lily Evans. Even the Black sisters, who were beyond gorgeous, didn't excite him. Compared to his perpetually horny friends, Remus was downright asexual. He often wondered if this meant that something was wrong with him, and if so, whether it had anything to do with him being a werewolf.

With that in mind, worry should have been the _last _thing he felt when he caught himself watching Vivian turn pages and thinking what beautiful hands she had. But having got over the initial happy surprise of finding out that he was normal after all, he realized he had a great big problem. No, two great big problems. In fact, make it three.

The first and second problems were, unsurprisigly, James and Sirius themselves. Remus might be starting to like Vivian, but they were sure to have more discerning tastes. Nice as she seemed, Vivian Calibourne was a nerdy Ravenclaw with limp blonde hair, big glasses, and a quiet, studious disposition. The infamous marauders could do better than that. If Remus took the Room of Requirement's apparent advice and asked Vivian to the ball, James and Sirius would...

Well, he didn't know what they would do. He generally went so far out of his way to AVOID their disapproval that he wasn't quite sure what it would be like. But he wanted to keep the only real friends he had, the only ones who knew his secrets.

And that brought him to the second problem. Remus was a werewolf. Not that he was in any position to know from experience, but he suspected that would put a _strong _damper on any attempt at a relationship.

"Do you like Professor Gunter?" asked Vivian.

"Hmm?" Remus broke out of his thoughts and forced himself to look at Vivian's face instead of her hands. "Sorry - I beg your pardon?"

"Professor Gunter," she said. "The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Do you like him?"

Remus shrugged. "I guess," he said. Professor Gunter wasn't the kind of teacher students particularly liked or disliked... Remus had a bit of a soft spot for the man because he was a werewolf rights activist, but otherwise, he did not inspire strong emotions. "Why?"

"Just curious," said Vivian. "I find him..." she paused, trying to think of the right words, "awfully opinionated, I guess. He's always talking about what _he _thinks about this thing or that thing. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think that's really a teacher's job."

"I guess not," said Remus. He'd noticed that particular quirk of Professor Gunter's, but it had never bothered him because he shared the majority of the professor's opinions. "So... this is the Werewolf Essay, you said. Is it the same one about classification?"

Vivian nodded and read a line out of her notebook: "Should Lycanthropy be Classified as a Curse or a Malady?: two rolls of parchment," she recited. ""It's legally a Curse, but Professor Gunter thinks it should be reclassified as a Malady."

"Yeah, he's campaigning for that," agreed Remus, remembering the speech his own class had recieved on the subject.

"I don't agree with him," said Vivian.

"Me, either," said Remus. Professor Gunter's attempt to get Werewolves reclassified hinged on a technicality - in strict legal terms, a 'Curse' was cast on purpose by a conscious agent while a 'Malady' was something a person contracted by accident. But there was a reason why an exception had been made in the first place... Remus was in a position to know.

"You don't?" Vivian sounded surprised, but relieved. "Oh, good! I tried to talk to my classmates about it, but they all think he's right. It IS a Curse!"

"Of course it is," said Remus. "They classified it as a Curse because it causes so much suffering. Not just for the werewolf, but for everybody who knows him."

"Yes," Vivian nodded. "People with _maladies _can still lead normal lives. People who've been _cursed _can't."

"Right!" said Remus. They could try... but that didn't always mean anything. He caught Vivian's eye for a moment, and found himself very tempted to tell her just how many problems the curse had caused him... and his friends... and his family... and everybody else he came into contact with... but stopped himself. He'd only just met this girl, after all. He might be developing a little bit of a crush on her, but he really didn't know her that well. It would be a very bad idea to start telling her all his innermost secrets now. "Uh... so... you're going to write your essay on why it _is _a curse?"

Vivian sighed. "That's the problem. If my essay doesn't agree with what Professor Gunter says, he'll give me a lower mark."

"He wouldn't do that," Remus began, but she interrupted him.

"Yes, he would!" she said. "He's done it before! I was only in third year at the time... and I was stupid enough to owl my parents so that they came in to talk to him. It was the most embarrassing thing..." she shook her head. "So when you wrote yours... you agreed with him?"

"Well, yeah..." Remus suddenly felt embarrassed by it. At the time, he hadn't thought of it as compromising his principles at all... agreeing with Professor Gunter would get him marks, so agree with Professor Gunter he had. It wasn't until weeks afterwards that he'd gotten tired of the issue gnawing on his conscience and worked out what he really thought about it.

"Good," Vivian nodded. "What did you put? The only thing I can think of is that stupid legal technicality he mentioned to us... about how it's a malady by the definition they normally use."

Remus tried to remember. "Um... I think I said something about how it spreads like a disease. You know, by passing itself on to people who come into contact with someone who's been infected. I'd have to dig up the essay... I think I kept it, but it's not here at school. I'll have to owl my parents to send it to me. If we could meet again in a couple of days, maybe?" he suggested.

"Sure," said Vivian. "That's a good idea - the 'spreads like a disease' thing. I'll have to use that." She glanced at him, then looked away. "I'm sorry - I must sound like an idiot."

"No, you don't," Remus quickly reassured her.

"Yes, I do," she said. "I don't know how I ever managed to get put into Ravenclaw when I have so much trouble with essays."

"Well, it's not the essay," said Remus. "It's the fact that you don't agree with what you're writing. Of course that's going to make it harder."

"It's so frustrating," she said.

"Yeah." Remus' memory of the essay was coming back to him quite strongly now. He'd had a lot of trouble with it and had suspected afterwards that the only reason he got a good mark was because Professor Gunter felt sorry for him. "Well, if it's going to be that much trouble, maybe you should just write it the way you want."

"And take a lower mark." She grimaced. "No, I'd better do it the way he wants. And if that's all we can do tonight, I guess you'd better get back to your common room before anybody starts to wonder why you're missing. People are used to me disappearing all the time, but probably not you."

"My friends will be wondering, yeah," said Remus. "And we'd better not let people find out we were missing at the same time. If you vanish along with one of the infamous Marauders, your reputation will be ruined!" He meant it as a joke, but saying it reminded him sharply of James' and Sirius' likely disapproval.

Vivianlaughed out loud. "It could only help! I haven't had a date in three years."

"Why not?" asked Remus.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm... just not interested. It doesn't seem as important as other things. This is school - I'm supposed to be here to learn, not see boys. It must be nice being Sirius Black's best friend - you've got those gorgeous triplets at your beck and call."

"Not really," said Remus. "We're only friends with them. Bellatrix Black is okay, but I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, and I _know _she wouldn't call me her boyfriend." He hesitated, then said, "she's not even going to the Graduation Ball with me. She's going with Rudy LeStrange."

"Really?" asked Vivian. "So who _are _you going with?"

"At the moment? Nobody," said Remus. She wanted him to ask her... well, perhaps he should. It was just a ball. It didn't represent the commitment to a friendship that telling her he was a werewolf would. But if he did, James and Sirius would never let him live it down. They were pains sometimes... but they were the only friends he had who really knew him. He wanted to keep them. "I'll send that owl to my parents tonight," he promised, "and I'll let you know as soon as it gets back."

"Thanks," said Vivian. "See you soon, then?"

"Sure," said Remus. "I'll probably see you tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

Sirius had never been so glad to see a Saturday - as he sat down to a big breakfast of sausages and pancakes, he even managed not to think about the fact that they were running out of time to find dates. It was, after all, only ten days until the ball. But he was able to push that out of his mind though sheer gratitude that he would not be obliged to endure another herbology class with Rosalie Cranmer. 

Besides, even more importantly, a Saturday meant a Quidditch game... and not just any Quidditch game, either. This was the last game of the school year, the one that would determine whether Gryffindor or Hufflepuff won the Quidditch Cup. Just what the Mediwizard ordered to get Sirius' mind off the whole poetry mess and allow him to work out his frustration. Remus and James were apparently just as glad of the relief; both of them were tucking into breakfast with more gusto than Sirius had seen in weeks.

All three were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as was Peter Pettigrew. James was both team captain and their Keeper, and ridiculously good at both jobs. Remus was a Chaser, Sirius a Beater, and short, lightweight Peter was the Seeker... and if they did say so themselves - which they did - they nearly made an unbeatable Quidditch machine with just the four of them.

"Morning, Sirius," said James, grabbing a cherry danish out of one of the bowls. "Ready to kick some Hufflepuff arse?"

"Never been readier," Sirius replied, grinning. "They don't stand a chance." Gryffindor had, after all, won the cup the last three years in a row. Nothing was going to break that streak now - not as long as the Marauders were still on the team.

James nodded. "Besides," he said, "you know there's nothing like a Quidditch victory to get girls. I bet we'll all have dates by the end of the day."

"Mmmmr," said Remus, through a mouthful of sausage. "Sirius, how's your hand?"

Sirius held it up to the light... it was _almost _back to normal, but still a bit glassy. He'd tested it that morning and found he could see the edge between the yellow and red squares on his scarf through it, but it took something with a very high contrast to get that effect. "Much better," he said.

"Good to hear," Remus nodded, then tilted his head in the direction of the Slytherin table. "Look - there're the triplets."

Sirius turned his head to look... yep, there were the triplets, all right, and to his disgust, all three had prepared for the game by donning Hufflepuff scarves and braideing black and yellow ribbons into their hair. Turncoats. He took a big bite of pancake and chewed it sullenly, his good mood considerably dampened. Hopefully, they were only doing it to be nice to Andy... after all, Ted Tonks was the Hufflepuff Keeper. They couldn't very well support Gryffindor when Andy's boyfriend was on the opposite team.

Yeah, that had to be it.

He glanced back again, and noticed that Andromeda Black's was not the only red head at the Slytherin table decked out in Hufflepuff colours... further down from her firey red-orange curls was a familiar head of thick auburn waves. What was Lily Evans doing at the Slytherin table?

Oh, of course. She was talking to Snivellus Snape.

Sirius had been pretending not to know Snape since both of them were very young. Snape had been an ugly, greasy little boy, and was growing up into an ugly, greasy little adult. He had stringy hair, a beak of a nose, and acne that Sirius could only liken to the pitted and oozing surface of one of Jupiter's moons. The Snapes were a pureblooded but poor and unimportant family. Sirius couldn't understand why Lily found the little slug worthy of her time and friendship, but there she was, laughing at something he'd said.

As Sirius watched, Snape knelt down in front of Lily and took her hands as if proposing marriage to her. He said something Sirius couldn't hear, and then Lily laughed out loud.

"_Shakespeare_?" she asked, her voice just loud enough to hear. "With a Hufflepuff?"

Sirius almost fell off his chair. He tried to calm himself... after all, he didn't know it was him that she was talking about...

And then she looked right at him. As did Snape.

Damn, damn, damn!

Sirius turned back to his breakfast, seething. He hadn't wanted anybody to know he was meeting Rosalie Cranmer... and now the whole school was going to hear about it! How in hell had Snivellus found out? When Sirius caught him, there was going to be great pain involved.

After breakfast, players and fans alike hurried off to get ready for the Quidditch game, and Sirius spotted Snape wandering off in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons. How exactly like him to go study or something similarly lame while the rest of the school did Quidditch. The nerd thought he was just so much better than everybody else, didn't he? Sirius followed him and grabbed him by the collar.

"Hey, Snivellus," he said.

"What do you want now?" Snape demanded.

Sirius pushed him against the wall - not hard enough to cause lasting damage, but hard enough to let Snape know he meant business. "What were you telling Evans?" he demanded.

"None of your business," said Snape defensively.

"Oh, really?" asked Sirius. "I think that if you're talking about me behind my back, then that MAKES it my business, doesn't it? What were you telling her, huh?"

"What do you care?" asked Snape.

"Because you were eavesdropping," said Sirius. "Didn't your Mummie ever tell you that it's not polite to listen in on other peoples' conversations?"

"I didn't," said Snape. "I went to Professor Duncan's office to ask her a question, and you were in the potions classroom. I didn't stop and listen or anything - I went through, went in, and came right back out and left again when I was done."

"And I didn't _see _you?" Sirius gave him a shake.

"You had your head in a cauldron," said Snape.

"What about Cranmer?" asked Sirius. "_She _didn't see you, either? What, do you have an invisibility charm or something, Snivellus?"

"Of course she saw me." Every time Sirius used the nickname the Marauders had given Snape, the boy was getting redder and redder from fury until the rest of his face nearly matched his acne. "I waved to her, and she waved to me, and I left."

"But she didn't say anything?" asked Sirius.

"Why would she?" asked Snape. "I didn't. Let me go."

Sirius snarled. Stupid Hufflepuff; she'd just let him walk right through? Hadn't he TOLD her he didn't want people to see him with her? Sirius was thoroughly glad he wouldn't be likely to see Rosalie again until Monday. It would give him time to cool down enough that he might not strangle her on sight.

But Snape was here right now. "Okay, Snivellus," Sirius began.

"_Stop_ calling me that!" Snape wrenched his shirt out of Sirius' fingers and ducked under the taller boy's arm. "Will you grow up already?"

"Grow up?" Sirius could barely believe his ears. "You're telling me to grow up?"

"Yes," said Snape. "You still act exactly the same as you did when we were in our first year! Grow up! In fact, I'll help you." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Sirius. "_Tempus fugit_!" he hollered.

Sirius abruptly grew an inch taller, gained fifty pounds, and sprouted a long beard as Snape's curse added about thirty-five years to his age. He snatched his own wand out of his robes and fired a returning curse. "_Distendo_!"

Snape began to expand as if putting on the weight of a hundred greasy suppers in a few minutes. His clothes stretched and tore, and within seconds he was so obese his face was no longer recognizable. He fumbled for his own wand with thickening fingers, and multiple chins wobbled as he opened his mouth to send another curse at Sirius...

And that's when Professor McGonagall found them.

"What do you two think you're doing?" she demanded.

Neither of them answered; they really didn't have to. It was perfectly obvious to anybody that they'd been duelling with curses, and unsupervised duelling was against school rules.

"Twenty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin," said McGonagall, "and the only reason I don't suspend you from Quidditch, Mr. Black, is because this is the last game of the season and the team couldn't play without you. Now, both of you get to the hospital wing at once."

The curse had made Snape too fat to walk unaided, so in the end, McGonagall had to levitate him in order to get him upstairs. Madam Pomphrey de-aged and deflated the boys, then gave them a stern talking-to about the dangers of curses before sending them on their way. It was a remarkably light punishment for what they'd been caught doing, but Madam Pomphrey had been a Gryffindor when SHE was a student, and Sirius supposed she didn't want to see the game called off, either.

"I'll see you after the game," said Snape darkly, as they parted ways at the foot of the staircase; Sirius was headed for the pitch, Snape back to the dungeons.

"Oh, really?" asked Sirius.

"Yes," said Snape. "So I can finish hexing your egotistical head off."

Sirius smirked. "So you're challenging me to a proper duel, are you, Snivellus?"

"_Stop_ calling me that," Snape repeated. "And yes, I am."

Sirius pursed his lips, began to answer, and then stopped as he got an absolutely wonderful idea. Oh, yes, he would snow Snivellus Snape what happened to unwashed miscreants who messed with the Marauders!

"Not after the game," he said. "McGonagall will be watching us. I'll tell you what: there's a secret passageway under the Whomping Willow out front. At the end of it, there's a room where we can duel without having to worry about teachers walking in on us. You get there by pressing the big knot in the willow roots with a stick; that'll make the tree stand still, but it only works on a full moon."

He tried to look as innocent as possible as Snape searched his face. For a moment, he wondered if even Snape was dumb enough to fall for it, but then he nodded.

"When's the next full moon?" asked Snape.

"Ohh..." Sirius pretended to have to think about it. "Five days from now. So - see you on Thursday, then?"

"All right," said Snape. "Thursday."


	8. Chapter 8

Siriuswas in a much more cheerful mood as the Gryffindor team stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch and mounted their brooms. Snivellus was going to get the surprise of his life; Sirius would have bet money that the little shit would piss his pants upon realizing that he'd walked into the Shrieking Shack, never mind finding a werewolf in it. And, rather more immediately, Gryffindor was about to win the Quidditch cup. Sirus stepped astride his Meteor III - no longer the fastest broom on the market since the IV had come out a few months ago, but IV's were so new that nobody at Hogwarts yet had one - and flew smoothly to join his fellow players.

At opposite ends of the pitch, James and Ted Tonks were already waiting in front of the goal rings, while the rest of the teams were arranged in pyramid formation at the centre of the field - three chasers across the bottom, two beaters above them, and seekers at the top. Sirius took up his position next to George Hohenheim, the other Gryffindor beater. He exchanged a nod with his partner, then turned to lock eyes with the Hufflepuff beaters: John Agrippa and Olivia Behr. Above them was Hufflepuff's seeker...

Sirius did a double-take and nearly fell off his broom.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" he demanded.

Rosalie Cranmer rolled her eyes. "Uh, I'm here to play Quidditch?" she said. "Same as you?"

"Mike Hastings is Hufflepuff Seeker!" said Sirius. "Isn't he?"

"He was until Christmas," said Rosalie. "He had to quit the team because his parents wouldn't let him play anymore until his marks came up. Don't you pay attention to _anything _besides your own ego?"

Sirius frowned, thinking about the Quidditch games since Christmas... Gryffindor had played Hufflepuff once in November - that would have been before Mike quit. And then... no, there hadn't been a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game since. And Quidditch moved so fast that it was really hard to get a look at the players unless you were one of them. So yes, in fact, it did make perfect sense that he'd had no idea Rosalie would be here...

Damn! He ground his teeth. Of all the people they could have picked as replacement seeker, why did it have to be _her_? It couldn't have been more annoying if she'd done it on purpose to keep herself in his face!

Below him, Remus was waving to somebody in the crowd. It wasn't hard to pick out who - the girl was the only one holding a Gryffindor banner in a sea of Ravenclaws who'd chosen to root for Hufflepuff. Most of the school seemed to be rooting for Hufflepuff, in fact. Jerks, thought Sirius. They were just jealous because Gryffindor won every year. Hadn't their mothers ever taught them not to begrudge others their successes?

Master Lampwright, the flying instructor, stepped out onto the field with the Quaffle. "All right, boys and girls, he said. "You all know the rules... and I want no nonsense like in Gryffindor versus Slytherin last week - that means _you_, Mr. Black."

Sirius rolled his eyes. One little prank to make the Slytherin Keeper's broom tie itself in knots, and you were a criminal for life.

The flying instructor blew his whistle, threw the Quaffle into the air, and the game began.

After that, there wasn't a lot of time to think about anything besides the bludgers and the other players... and right from the start, things weren't going well for Gryffindor. The Hufflepuffs must have been putting in extra practice; only five minutes into the game, the Quaffle went sailing by James, who nearly collided with the rings trying to stop it, and scored a goal for Hufflepuff. Sirius soon felt ready to spit nails - they'd adopted a whole new strategy, one they'd probably been saving just for this final game! If something drastic didn't happen soon, Gryffindor was going to be flattened.

After half an hour, the score was seven to two, and Gryffindor was getting desperate. The only way they were going to win now was if Peter got his rear in gear and caught the snitch, but nobody had seen the elusive little gold ball since Master Lampwright had released it at the start of the game...

And then, there it was, sailing in from the Hufflepuff side of the field. Rosalie saw it first and took off after it, with Peter only half a second behind her. Sirius spun his broom in midair, watching the two of them zip around the field; Peter was faster, but Rosalie could make tighter turns. For a moment it looked as if the two effects compensated for each other completely... and then Rosalie began to pull ahead.

For a moment, Sirius' vision was washed out by red fury. That _bitch_! He'd been nothing but publicly humiliated since the day he'd met her, starting from the first instant when she'd had the nerve to come up to him in the library and ask for her stupid poetry book back, and now she was going to be responsible for him losing the Quidditch game! If she'd set out with the express intention of ruining his reputation, she couldn't have done a better job. Replacement seeker, his ass... she probably really _had _just turned up to annoy him, and...

And then it seemed that fate finally smiled on Sirius. He broke out of his internal rant just in time to see the bludger coming, and grinned... finally, something going rightin this game! He swung his club, it connected, and the heavy black ball went flying at the two seekers. They veered off in seperate directions to avoid being hit by it, and Rosalie tried to turn a little too hard even for her agile broom. She smacked into one of the towers and stopped there, shaking her head to clear it from a daze, while Peter righted himself and went after the snitch again.

The bludger swung around to follow Peter, which brought it right past Sirius again. He readied his club - he was going to finish the god-damned job and make sure Rosalie never spoke to him again... promises or no promises. The bludger whizzed past his ear, he swung at it, and it flew across the field to hit the still-recovering Rosalie right in the stomach.

People in the stands gasped... and then all other sights and sounds on the crowded, noisy Quidditch pitch seemed to fade away as Sirius watched what happened next. The bludger knocked Rosalie right off her broom and into the side of the tower with such force that the wood splintered. Towers being knocked over during Quidditch matches were not an unusual event - the spectators on the top were quickly casting levitation charms so that they wouldn't fall - but not by _people _running into them. The tower seemed to collapse in slow motion, each snap and creak painfully loud in Sirius' ears. Banners went flying and dust rose as it toppled and then there it was, lying in a heap of twisted wood on the earth, with levitated people slowly settling to the ground all around it.

The bottom fell right out of Sirius' stomach. He hadn't meant to do that. He'd only wanted to scare her... to impress on her that Sirius Black was out of her league and there would be consequences if she didn't keep out of his business... but... where was she? People from various houses were swarming over to the collapsed tower, pulling beams and banners aside to look for her.

"Sirius!" said James, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius, wake up."

"Huh?" Sirius looked up, and found his friend grinning at him. "What?"

"We won!" James told him. "Peter caught the snitch."

Sirius looked past James at the field - Peter was sitting up on his broom, holding the little gold ball high. The other Gryffindor players were gathering around to shake his hand...

But not many people were cheering. The eyes of the spectators were all on the fallen tower.

"Mr. Black!" shouted Master Lampwright. "Get down here, _now_!"

Sirius obediently landed his broom in front of the instructor and dismounted. "Master," he said, "I didn't mean to, I..."

"Silence!" Master Lampwright held a long finger under Sirius' nose. "That, Mr. Black, is the most absolutely disgusting thing I have ever seen you do! Or did you simply not notice that she had already collided with the beam once and was dizzy? She wasn't even within the bounds of the playing field, and she certainly wasn't after the snitch! You're lucky this is the last game of your last year, or you'd be suspended from Quidditch for the rest of your time at Hogwarts!"

"I'm sorry," said Sirius.

Somebody had pulled Rosalie out of the wreckage, and Madam Pomphrey was running to see her. There was blood on the girl's face, and one arm was hanging at a horrible angle... her collarbone was broken.

"What in Merlin's name made you do that?" asked Master Lampwright.

"I..." said Sirius. What _had _it been? He'd been angry with her for being in the game... but how stupid was it to think she'd done it to annoy him? He'd been angry with her for embarrassing him... but _he _was the one who'd gone to _her _for help finding a poem for Andy. He'd been angry because she came up to him in the library... but _he _was the one who'd asked her if she had a date, and come to that, he was the one who'd gone into the Room of Requirement and found the book in the first place.

"Well?" the instructor demanded.

"I'm sorry," said Sirius.

"You're going to be sorrier," said Master Lampwright. "You'll be serving detention for the rest of the year if I have anything to say about it."

"Yes, Master Lampwright," said Sirius.

The rest of the Gryffindor team had landed behind him, and now James came running up. "Master," he said, "we're not going to have to forfeit the game, are we?"

Master Lampwright had to think about it. "No," he said. "Nobody broke the rules of Quidditch... just the rules of human decency."

Sirius hung his head. When he dared glance up, he saw Madam Pomphrey kneeling over Rosalie, listening to her heartbeat. Oh, Merlin... he hadn't killed her, had he? All the Quidditch cups in the world wouldn't be able to make up for _that_!

"Mr. Black!" This time the voice was Professor McGonagall's. "What in the world did you think you were doing?"

"I'm sorry," said Sirius.

"Professor, it's not that big of a deal, is it?" asked James. "He was just trying to make sure she didn't go after the snitch again. Right, Padfoot?"

Sirius' heart jumped - saying 'yes' might be a way out of all this hot water... but it was a way out he probably didn't deserve. Master Lampwright was absolutely correct - he'd been picking on somebody who was in no position to avoid the projectile he'd sent at her, he'd done it for stupid reasons having nothing to do with the Quidditch game, and if he _hadn't _killed her, he and she both were very, very lucky.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Sorry," McGonagall said tartly, "Isn't going to heal a broken collarbone and four crushed ribs. Now give me your broom - I don't want to see you flying again until the end of the term."

"Professor, that's not fair," James began.

"Shut up, Prongs," said Sirius, and without a word of protest, handed his beloved Meteor over. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I heard you the first time," was all McGonagall said.


	9. Chapter 9

The talk in the Gryffindor locker room, as the boys changed back into their everyday robes, was mostly about winning the Quidditch Cup. What little ire was directed at Sirius seemed to be mostly on account of his nearly having cost them the cup. There was no mention at all of him nearly having cost Rosalie Cranmer her life. Sirius felt like he was floating in some alternate universe where his misdeed had never happened. 

If that were so, he returned to normal reality upon leaving the locker room. Teddy Tonks was waiting for him there.

"What do you want, Tonks?" asked James.

Ted stepped past him and up to Sirius. "You bastard," he said, and punched Sirius in the face.

Sirius staggered backwards, gripping a bleeding nose, and Remus and Peter had to catch him or he'd have fallen on his backside. James stepped forward to return the blow, but Sirius grabbed his sleeve.

"Doe," he said, "Doe, Progs... I deserbed dat."

"You did not," said James. "Tonks, I oughtta..."

"DOE," Sirius repeated. "I'b sorry, Ted. If you wadda bead de shid oudda be, go ahead."

"Padfoot?" James stared at him. "What's gotten into you?"

"She'd already stopped," said Ted. "You'd already won your goddamn Cup! There was no need to do that!"

"I doe," said Sirius. He straightened up. "I'b sorry. I did't thig thad would habben." He let go of his nose and looked at his hand - blood was running down his wrist. "I thig I'd bedda go do de hosbidal wig."

"You better not even LOOK at Cranmer while you're in there," said Ted threateningly. "I don't care how pure your damn blood is, I will take you apart."

Ted looked capable of it, too. Growing up in an unpleasant part of London had given him not only an atrocious Cockney accent but a very impressive set of muscles. Sirius would not have liked to face him without a ready wand.

"I'm sorry, Ted," said Sirius. "Really. I'm sorry."

"Not half as sorry as I can make you," the hulking Hufflepuff replied, and turned around to stalk off.

"Sirius?" asked James. "What's eating you? Since when do we apologize to the losing team?"

"Well, I cabe close to killig one of his players," said Sirius weakly, rubbing his nose. This was unreal. How could he be the only one who seemed to care?

James dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "My dad used to say that close only counts in horseshoes and dungbombs. I've never seen a shot like that - you should have been a chaser with that aim! Come on, let's fix up your nose and celebrate! I smuggled some champagne into our common room, and..."

"Leabe me alone," said Sirius. James tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but Sirius shrugged it off and walked out of the locker room without looking back. What the hell was the matter with everybody? Why were they congratulating him? He'd been acting like a petty, pissy little git and nearly killed a girl who'd never been anything but accomodating towards him when he'd given her every reason not to be, and they were congratulating him!

Well, arseholes to the lot of them. Sirius at least knew he'd done something wrong. And he wasn't going to go to a party and celebrate the fact that he'd almost killed someone.

He didn't really think about the fact that going to the hospital wing meant coming face-to-face with Rosalie until he was nearly already there. By then, his nose had stopped bleeding, though it felt unpleasantly stuffy, so really he couldn have turned back... but he didn't. He was going where he ought to go. He needed to apologize to Rosalie. And he needed to do it in person.

He stood outside the doors of the hospital wing a moment, then had an extra idea. "Accio book!" he said, pulling out his wand and concentrating on the mental picture of Rosalie's book of poetry. A moment passed, and then it came floating up the hallway towards him. He opened it to a random page and took a look at what came up. It was a poem by someone named Samuel Hoffenstein:

_Your little hands, your little feet  
Your little mouth - oh, God, how sweet!_

_Your little nose, your little ears  
Your eyes that shed such little tears!_

_Your little voice so soft and kind  
Your little soul, your little mind!_

He shut the book. It was an inanimate object, he told himself, printed by Muggles who could not possibly make it able to taunt him. If he thought the page had come up on purpose to mock his suave self-image and the shallow jerk that lay under it, that was all in his head.

But somehow, knowing that didn't make him feel any better. He sighed, and pushed the door open.

"Yes?" asked Madam Pomphrey, appearing around a corner. "Oh, Mr. Black," she said. "What have you done to yourself this time?"

"Nothing," Sirius said quickly. "I just... I thought I'd..." there was just enough pride left in him to be embarrassed by what he was about to do. "How's Cranmer?"

To his surprise, Madam Pomphrey actually smiled. It was only a flicker of a smile, but a smile nonetheless. "She'll be fine," she said briskly. "The collarbone was easy to repair but the ribs needed replacing - don't worry, I gave her a dose of Skele-Gro. She'll be back on her feet tomorrow. Did you want to see her?"

"Yes, please," said Sirius, relieved that he didn't have to do anything so embarrassing as ask permission. He followed Madam Pomprey over to a bed cordoned off from the others by a curtain. When she whisked the curtain aside, there was Rosalie Cranmer, lying on her back. She was conscious, but very pale, and her brow was furrowed as if she were in pain. She turned her head slowly to look at Sirius, and seemed confused by his presence.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He swallowed and sheepishly held up the little black leather volume. "I brought you your book." He could feel blood rushing to his face, and wondered how red he was turning.

"I'd've thought you'd be celebrating the Quidditch Cup," said Rosalie. "You had good aim to hit me from way over there."

Sirius dropped the book. "What?" he asked, as he scooped to pick it up.

"I said you had good aim," she repeated.

"But..." he said, and then couldn't think of anything to follow it with. He had to stop and think a moment before he managed to say: "How can you_congratulate_ me for that?"

"Well, it's not as if it was personal," said Rosalie. "You wanted to keep me from going after the Snitch again, right? It was a good shot."

"No," said Sirius, "no, it_was_ personal. I was mad at you... I don't think I exactly_know_ why... no, I know why," he corrected himself. "I thought you were ruining my reputation. I thought I was too good to be talking to some Muggle-born Hufflepuff. I didn't mean to hit you that hard, I was trying to scare you. I'm sorry."

"You're the one who came looking for _me_," said Rosalie. "How does that make it my fault for..."

"It doesn't," said Sirius. "It doesn't. I was being a jerk, and I'm sorry. You tried to help me even when I was being such an ass, and... I'm sorry."

"All right," said Rosalie.

Sirius blinked. "All right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "You're forgiven."

"I'm forgiven?" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Master Lampwright said I nearly _killed_ you, and you're just going to forgive me?"

"That's why people apologize, isn't it?" asked Rosalie. "So that other people will forgive them? You said you're sorry, you look like you mean it, and I doubt you'll do it again. We probably won't even ever see each other again after the end of this year... I don't want to be lying there dying someday and think about all the people I could have forgiven for things and didn't. It's not gonna matter in a hundred years. Why shouldn't I forgive you?"

"Is this another Hufflepuff thing?" asked Sirius.

"Well, would you feel _better _if I shouted at you for it?" Rosalie wanted to know. "Sirius Black, you unbelievable bastard, I can't believe you did that to me and I will never forgive you and I'll hate you as long as I live! Does that feel better?"

"No," he admitted. "I've never met anybody who'd actually do that before. It's not gonna matter in a hundred years so why shouldn't I forgive him. Who honestly thinks like that?"

"I don't know," said Rosalie. "I just never saw the point of staying mad at somebody, I guess. My grandmother used to say that a grudge won't get better no matter how long you nurse it."

"I guess not," said Sirius, who'd nursed enough of them to know. He tried to think of something else to say, but couldn't really come up with anything, so he stood up. "I guess I ought to go. I'm... I'm missing the party, I... here's your book," he held it out to her.

"Thanks," she took it.

"Are you..." said Sirius. "I mean... if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I know you said you forgive me but I don't feel forgiven. You could go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend and I'll buy you lunch. Not that it's a date or anything." He still did have that much pride. "It's... consider it like penance."

"You're Catholic?" asked Rosalie.

"No," said Sirius. "It's a figure of speech."

Rosalie propped herself up on her arms, wincing at the pain in her ribs. "You know," she said, "you keep saying you're sorry but you don't act like you want me to forgive you." Seeing his confused expression, she clarified: "well, am I supposed to_like_ the idea that it's so embarrassing to be seen with me that you'd take me out as a way of punishing yourself?"

Sirius hung his head. "I'm a jerk, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," she said. "People laugh at you and your friends behind your backs, you know. The Marauders think they're such hot stuff, and yet their heads are so big they can't even get dates they're not related to."

"What?" asked Sirius.

"That's what people say," said Rosalie.

"But that's not why we go out with the triplets," said Sirius. "It's because they're the prettiest girls."

"Would they go out with you if you weren't their cousin?" asked Rosalie.

He sighed. "They won't go out with me now even though I am their cousin. And James... well, Evans just turns him down flat every time he gets near her. He's had this thing for her since the first time he saw her... way back in first year, he pointed her out to me and told me he was going to marry her someday." He looked at his feet again... his head felt heavy with a sudden and horrible sense of his own worthlessness. "You're right... we are total losers, and I almost had to kill somebody before I figured it out."

"You got a bargain," said Rosalie. "If I were a shrink, it would probably have cost you a couple of thousand pounds. You better go to your party, before they have to use a summoning charm."

"I guess," said Sirius. "I'll... see you around."

She nodded. "Madam Pomphrey says I'll be fine by tomorrow."


	10. Chapter 10

Remu has been shocked by the way Sirius behaved during the Quidditch game. He'd known his friend could be vindictive, and the way James and Sirius treated Severus Snape was a more than ample indication of how little they cared about taking their feelings out on innocent victims. But Sirius also prided himself on being a consummate gentleman, and treating a girl that way was not like him at all. Something must be preying on him heavily indeed if he'd lower himself to such a thing. 

But even more unlike Sirius was what happened in the locker room. When Teddy Tonks came up and punched Sirius in the face, Remus was quite sure he was in for another session of trying to convince the headmaster not to suspend him for fighting. But rather than attack the burly Hufflepuff boy... Sirius just stood there and took it. Tonks walked away from punching Sirius Black - an act most of Hogwarts would have considered tantamount to suicide - without a scratch on him.

And then when Sirius stalked off to the hospital wing instead of going to the Gryffindor common room to celebrate... yes, something was definitely wrong here.

"Wow," said James, as Sirius slammed the locker room door behind himself. "What's with _him_?"

"I don't know," Remus admitted. He wondered if he ought to follow Sirus and ask him if he was okay, but decided against it. Whatever was wrong, Sirius plainly wanted to be alone. So Remus just finished changing, and he, James, and Sirius left the locker room.

Vivian Calibourne was waiting for them outside.

Remus' first reaction was to be happy to see her, but it was quickly replaced by utter panic. Sirius might have left, but James was right there, along with the rest of the Quidditch team! What were they going to think of seeing her come looking for him, this plain girl who wasn't nearly up to their standards of female beauty?

He breathed deeply and tried to calm himself. After all, James didn't know he liked Vivian. As far as James was aware, Remus was just helping this girl with her werewolf essay. There was nothing to worry about here.

"Hi, Vivian," he said.

"Hi, Remus." She was beaming as she bounced up to him. "My friends thought I was crazy for rooting for Gryffindor."

"Well, I'll bet they feel like fools," said James, stepping forward. "You'd be Remus' new friend?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm Vivian Calibourne. You must be James Potter."

"Why, has my fame penetrated even the depths of Ravenclaw?" he grinned. "I thought you people never took your noses out of your books long enough to know what was going on!"

Remus was startled. He'd expected withering scorn, but James was actually being surprisingly nice, for James. Maybe he'd be able to take Vivian to the ball after all.

"Anyway," said Vivian, "Remus, did you owl your parents about that essay?"

"Yes, I did," he replied. "It arrived this morning - it's up in my dormitory. I can go get it, if you like. They were also nice enough to send me my bibliography, so you might want to look at some of the books. There's one in particular that's quite a good history of werewolves..."

"That's great," she said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Remus replied.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Vivian wanted to know. "Tomorrow's Sunday - do you want to go to Hogsmeade, and I'll buy you lunch?"

"We could do that," said Remus, mostly testing to see how James would respond. Surprisingly, he didn't - he just stood there grinning. "I'll bring the essay and we can take a look at it."

"Great," she repeated. "Well, I guess you've got a party to go to right now or something. Congratulations on winning the cup."

"Thanks," said Remus. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," she replied.

Once she'd gone, Remus dared a look at James to see what his friend was thinking. It was hard to tell. There was none of the look of disgust he'd been expecting, but James did still have a big grin plastered across his face. He smiled like an idiot a moment longer, then whistled.

"You think she's pretty?" asked Remus, startled.

James laughed. "Heck, no. I've seen better faces on horses. But did you hear her _name_?"

"Yes..." said Remus slowly. "Vivian Calibourne. That's what she said."

"Calibourne," said James. "_Calibourne_. Does that not mean anything to you?"

"My mom and my stepdad are both Muggles," Remus reminded him. "I wasn't exactly raised on _Who's Who in the Wizarding World_."

"Calibourne," said James. "The Calibournes claim descent from Merlin! Lucius Malfoy's mother is a Calibourne! And they're rich as hell. Planning on marrying for money, are you?"

Remus just knew that he turned bright red - there couldn't be any other reason why his face suddenly heated up like that. "I've only known her a few days," he said. "I don't think I'll be marrying her just yet."

James chuckled.

"But," said Remus, testing the idea out, "I thought I might take her to the ball. You know, if I can't talk Bellatrix out of going with Rudy."

James' grin vanished. "You're kidding, right?"

"Well, no," said Remus. "I like her. She's... she's smart, and... well, what's wrong with it?"

"Who you take to the ball isn't about who you like," said James. "If it was, we wouldn't be trying to go with the Black triplets to begin with."

"They're not that bad," said Remus.

"Eh, they're snobs," James said. "Especially Narse. Bella's almost as bad. The only one I'd say is actually nice is Andy, and she's got her days. But come on, Moony, we're the marauders, for crying out loud. There's not a girl at Hogwarts who doesn't know who we are, and we don't go to balls with the dogs no matter who they're related to! Is that really the final impression you want to leave on the younger kids? Remus Lupin, the dork who went to the ball with an owl-eyed Ravenclaw?"

Of the four marauders, Remus was easily the most easy-going. It took a lot to make him lose his temper... but that very nearly did it. His fists clenched in spite of themselves, and he opened his mouth with every intention of telling James not to be a collosal jerk. But fortunately, he remembered himself before he got it out. No - he could not possibly do that. He could not alienate one of the only true friends he had.

"Moony?" asked James. "You gonna say something?"

Remus forced himself to relax. "No," he said. "Nothing."

James appeared to believe him... or perhaps he was just distracted by what he spied over Remus' shoulder. "Hey, speaking of gorgeous snobs," he said. "Excuse me." He stepped past his friend and, doing what Remus, raised on his mother's favourite Muggle movies, always thought of as his 'John Wayne' walk, sauntered up to Lily Evans.

She was chatting with a friend from Hufflepuff, both of them looking terribly annoyed about something... and both with the black and yellow Hufflepuff ribbons in their hair. Remus had been the only marauder not surprised by Lily choosing to root for the opposite team; she hated the marauders with something bordering on an obsession, and would do such a thing just to annoy them. He sometimes felt a little sorry for James' helpless crush on her.

"Hey, Evans," said James. "Get dressed in the dark this morning?"

She and her Hufflepuff friend looked up, with expressions that couldn't have been more disgusted if James had come up and flashed them.

"Bugger off, Potter," Lily replied.

"Bugger off, Potter?" He stepped between her and the Hufflepuff girl. "Is that all you've got? Bugger off, Potter? Whatever happened to our witty repartee?"

"Witty repartee requires wits on both ends," she replied. "Excuse me."

Once again he blocked her, grabbing at his chest as if he'd just been shot in the heart - or at least, that was probably the intended effect. "Much, much better, Evans! I knew you still had it in you! Here, let me take those out of your hair," he reached for the ribbons. "The colour doesn't suit you."

She slapped his hand. "Touch me, Potter, and I will turn you into a... into a newt!"

About half a second went by before she realized that this was really a rather unfortunate choice of threat - and that was more than enough time for James to burst out laughing. "A newt!" he said. "Hey, everybody, Evans turned me into a newt!"

Lily turned around and stamped off, her face as red as her hair. Her friend hurried along behind her.

"She turned me into a newt!" James shouted, pointing at her retreating back. And then when he was sure he had everybody's attention, he added, "it got better!" and laughed some more.

Remus shook his head. It wasn't any wonder James prefered the Black triplets; they were all he could get. Between how he treated Lily Evans and the way Sirius seemed so infuriated by the Room of Requirement's trying to set him up with Rosalie Cranmer, Remus really wondered if they were going to be able to get dates at all. The only girls still available wouldn't take them.

"'Scuze me, all," said James, still talking to the student body at large. "I have to go nurse my broken heart. A little butterbeer and knowing that we won the Quidditch Cup ought to glue the poor bastard back together! Come on, Moony."

Remus started to follow him, but felt a tap on the shoulder. He looked down to see Peter Pettigrew.

"Hey, Moony," said Peter.

"Yeah, Wormtail?" asked Remus.

"_I_ think your girlfriend's pretty," Peter said, as defensively as if expecting Remus to deny it.

"Oh," said Remus. "Well... thanks," he replied, though he wasn't sure it was a complement. "She... she has nice hands. And when she takes her glasses off, her eyes are..." he realized what he'd been about to say, and flushed again. "Thanks," he repeated.

Peter swallowed. "Um, Moony," he said. "You know how you guys are trying so hard to get dates?"

"Yes?" said Remus.

"Well... I was just gonna go stag like always," said Peter, squirming. "But I... well, Moony, I've got a bit of a problem."


	11. Chapter 11

A dozen possibilities ran through Remus' head, but none of them felt right. Peter wasn't the kind of person who had girl problems... Peter wasn't the sort of person who had anything to do with girls if he could possibly help it. Girls, especially pretty ones, seemed to intimidate him. Maybe one of them had asked _him_? Most of the girls in seventh year were taller than he was... 

"Moony?" asked Peter.

Remus shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "I'm listening. What's the problem?"

"Well," Peter took a deep breath - apparently this was going to be rather a long story. "In Runes yesterday, Robert Denison dared me to draw this one rune above my bellybutton, and... uh... well, it made me have to go to the bathroom. Really, _really _have to go to the bathroom."

"Uh-huh," said Remus. Peter had a habit of explaining things in far more detail than was necessary, and James and Sirius were often not as patient with him as they should have been. Remus tried his best to make up for it by listening attentively, even when Peter talked about things like this.

"And... well, I was gonna wet myself if I waited," Peter turned quite pink, "so I just ran into the first bathroom I saw... and it was the girls', but there was nobody in there, so I just ran into a stall and went... and it turned out to be Moaning Myrtle's toilet."

Remus winced in sympathy. Female students at Hogwarts soon learned not to use that particular bathroom - Moaning Myrtle did not take kindly to being peed on. "What's that got to do with a date for the ball?" he asked.

"Well, she got mad at me," said Peter. "And she was crying away, and I kept telling her and telling her that I hadn't known she was in there, but she wouldn't listen, and... well, I asked her to the ball."

James or Sirius would have laughed themselves sick. Remus was just confused.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I thought it would make her stop crying," said Peter. "And it did. But the only thing is, now..."

"Now you have to go to the ball with her," said Remus.

Peter nodded, utterly miserable. "What should I do?" he asked.

Another of Peter's unfortunate habits was an apparent conviction that the marauders could do anything. In this case, it made Remus squirm. Peter had the faith of a child that Remus would have a solution for him... while Remus, of course, had no ideas whatsoever.

"I'll have to think about that," he said, then got a sudden idea. "Hey... how about the Room of Requirement?"

"Huh?" asked Peter.

"The Room of Requirement," said Remus. "You've got a problem you need a solution to, right? Why not see what the Room of Requirement gives you. It worked for me," he added.

"It did?" Peter frowned. "When?"

"That's where I met Vivian," Remus confided.

"In the Room of Requirement?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were joking about that," said Peter.

"I was, sort of," Remus admitted. "But I wanted to see what would happen, so I went and took a look, and Vivan was in there - turns out she uses it as a study room. If it can get me a date, I'm sure it can get you a solution to having to go to the ball with Moaning Myrtle."

Peter didn't look terribly sure, but he nodded. "I'll try that," he said.

"And if it doesn't work," said Remus, "we still have ten days. That's lots of time to think of something else."

"That's true," said Peter, brightening. "Come on, we'll miss the party!"

The party in the Gryffindor common room went on most of the rest of the day. The marauders were the heroes of the hour and basked in it... or at least, James did. Sirius sat by himself in a corner, drinking unhealthy amounts of butterbeer, and ignored - or at best, grunted at - anyone who tried to talk to him. And Remus was for the most part too worried about Sirius to have very much fun.

Besides... the party somehow paled in comparison to the idea that he was going to Hogsmeade with Vivian tomorrow. The thought of that made the bottom of his stomach tickle in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before. When the party was over, he sat down on his bed and prepared in some detail; he went through that old essay and carefully underlined things he thought would be of particular use to her. He made a list of the library books he'd used as references, and made sure he had some money, then sat and dug through his trunk trying to figure out what he was going to wear.

It occured to him as he did that this was sort of ridiculous. It was supposed to be _girls _who spent all night before a date angsting about what they were going to wear. But this was the first time Remus had ever been on a date - even a rather unofficial one - with a girl he actually wanted to spend the time with, and clothes suddenly took on a rather disproportionate importance. He couldn't possibly wear his school robes, of course. Dress robes were far too formal, but if Vivian was from a rich and important pureblood family, he could hardly show up in a t-shirt and jeans.

He eventually settled on his school slacks - the only non-jean trousers he owned - and a fairly nice polo shirt. It would probably make him look like a dweeb, but Remus wasn't James or Sirius. They were the handsome ones... with Remus, 'dweeb' was generally about as good as it got.

Once he was done with the clothes, the next thing to occur to him was whether he ought to take her a present. If she was going to buy him lunch, it seemed only fair that he should bring something for her. But what? Flowers seemed far too formal - this was, after all, an unofficial date if it was a date at all. But what did that leave? What did you _get _a girl, anyway? What did girls _like_?

This was something of a problem... the only girls Remus had much experience with were the triplets, who'd never expected more than token things like wrist corsages, and ones he was related to. The only idea he had was a vague impression of what he _shouldn't _get - nothing too fancy, nothing too expensive, nothing too gooey, and nothing too boyish. That narrowed it down quite a bit, and he wasn't entirely sure what it left...

... which was why, on Sunday, he found himself waiting for Vivian outside the Ravenclaw common room - the entrance was, of course, in the library - in his slacks and polo shirt, holding a big box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

They'd seemed like a good enough choice. The company advertised that the beans had something everybody would like, and that was true enough, but they also had something everybody _wouldn't _like, and he found himself suddenly sweating over them. What if Vivian thought they were too frivolous a gift? What if she didn't like the beans at all, or had some kind of allergy and couldn't eat them? All in all, he was sweating bullets by the time she showed up.

To make things much worse, the bookshelves kept swinging open and shut as Ravenclaws came and went. Remus seemed to stand there for hours, though it was really only about ten minutes, waiting and waiting and waiting and getting more and more nervous. Finally, the shelf creaked open, and Vivian stepped out.

Remus nearly dropped the beans. _Now _he could believe she was from a rich pureblood family; rather than the Muggle clothes a lot of the middle-class or muggleborn students hung out in, she was wearing wine-coloured robes with trailing medieval sleeves and quite a bit of gold embroidery. It looked more like the things the stuck-up Slytherins wore on their off days, and Remus suddenly felt hopelessly inadequate.

"Hi," said Vivian, smiling.

"Hi," said Remus. "Um... you look fantastic." Peter was absolutely right; Vivian might not have been James and Sirius' ridiculously high ideal of beautiful, but she was definitely pretty enough to make _his _knees weak.

"Thanks," she looked away. "I'm sorry, I know this must seem like a little much, but my Mum is always telling me that I need to dress like a lady. My family says they're descended from Merlin," she added apologetically, "and a lot of them get stuck up about it. I'd've come in Muggle clothes if I had any."

"No," said Remus. "No. Um, I mean, you should wear what you want, of course, but that looks really good. You look like a princess." He didn't realize until after the words were already out how trite they sounded, and he could feel his face heating up. "Um," he licked his lips, then held out the beans. "I brought you some jellybeans. I figured everybody likes Bertie Bott's, although if you don't, we could get something else..."

He stopped mid-sentence and looked at his shoes. Damn, he was just humiliating himself, wasn't he? _Why _hadn't he asked James or Sirius for advice? Well, okay, there was the fact that Sirius was sulking and James didn't think of Vivian as datable material... but surely, they'd have been willing to help a friend who didn't know nearly what they did about the female mind. Any moment now, she was just going to turn around and go right back into her dorm rather than spend the day with this idiot from Gryffindor, he just knew it.

But she didn't. Instead, she smiled and accepted the beans. "Thank you," she said. "I love Bertie Bott's. Have you ever found one of the candy apple flavour?"

"I might have," said Remus. He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to say what he was tempted to add to the statement. But if she'd stuck this out so far, he probably couldn't make it much worse. "I don't really know the good flavours very well. My friends and I like to sit around and dare each other to eat the bad ones."

"Then we'll definitely have to find you a candy apple one," said Vivian. "They're really good, I promise. Did you know," she said, "if you ask, Honeydukes will sell you the beans by flavour instead of in an assortment."

"No, I didn't," said Remus.

"They don't advertise it," Vivian said, "and you have to know a password. I'll show you." She offered him a hand. He took it, unable to keep himself from grinning like an idiot as he did, but he probably had every right to grin. Still holding hands, they left the library and started down the staircase, heading for the front courtyard.

Remus felt he ought to say something, but nothing really came to mind that wasn't dumb. So he said, "I brought the essay. And I made up a reading list for you, too. I hope it helps."

"Great," said Vivian. "Thanks, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," said Remus.

"You really don't know how glad I am that you're helping me," Vivian said. "I'd never be able to do this on my own."

"Oh, sure you would," said Remus. "You're a Ravenclaw, right? You're smart."

"Yeah, but I have an awful time writing about something I don't agree with," she sighed. "I'm too honest - that's what my brother says. He says that's why I didn't get into Slytherin. I don't really think that's as big a deal as he does - my family's always been kinda spread out in all the houses - but he's right, I really am too honest." She shivered. "I _hate_ werewolves."

It was all Remus could do not to fall over his own feet. Suddenly, he felt very cold. "You do?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Um." Remus licked his lips. "Why's that?"

She looked at her feet. "It's sort of a long story," she sighed. "I'll tell you after lunch."


	12. Chapter 12

It was amazing how a few tiny words could so completely change a person's attitude. Before Vivian came out of her common room, Remus had been so nervous he'd felt he might be sick. After she appeared, he went from utterly humiliated by his own dweebiness to practically floating on air when she didn't seem to mind... and then, three little words brought him crashing back down again. He no longer wanted to go anywhere or do anything with her. He just wanted to head right back to the dorm and hide.

"Remus?" asked Vivian. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied, trying to sound like he meant it. He was good at that – Remus had been convincing people he was fine the week of the full moon for years.

"You sure?" she still looked concerned. "You look like you didn't sleep last night. Under your eyes is all dark."

Not surprising when the full moon was only four days away... not to mention he'd been up late worrying about this date. "I'm all right," he said, then changed his mind. "Well, maybe I'm coming down with a cold or something." That would explain his absence when he vanished for the day. "I'll be all right."

"If you're sure..." said Vivian.

"I'm sure," he assured her.

They headed down the hill into the little town of Hogsmeade. It was a nice spring day – there were puddles on the ground from a pre-sunrise shower, and the air was chilly, but the sky was clear and blue, and the breeze smelled nice. The wind made Vivian's long sleeves flutter and her hair blew in her eyes, and Remus turned pink as he realized he was staring at her again. He'd better say something.

"Um," he said. "So... well, here." He pulled the reading list out of his pocket. "I made a list for you of good werewolf books in the library." He held it out. "Oh, and Professor Duncan has a couple you might want to borrow. Those are marked – just ask him for them, he likes lending them out."

"Thanks." Vivian took the list and looked at it. "I think I've already read a lot of these, but it would've been a few years back. I'll have to go through them again... what's this one?" she pointed to a particular title, one of the one's he'd marked as being in Professor Duncan's private library.

"Oh, that one's a case study on Jack the Ripper," said Remus. "Did you know they had to erase the memories of eighty-two members of the London police force to keep people from finding out it was a werewolf?"

"I've read about that," said Vivian. "In other books, though – I didn't know there was a whole book just on it. Most authors talk like the case wasn't very important."

"Well, it wasn't really," said Remus. "The werewolf didn't kill many people, and they caught her quickly. What made it unusual was that she was a Muggle originally. That doesn't happen very often."

"No, I guess it wouldn't," agreed Vivian. "The Ministry keeps tabs on werewolves and they're not usually allowed into Muggle areas except under special circumstances. Did it say whether anybody ever found out how she was bitten?"

Remus shook his head. "No," he replied. "That was the big mystery about it – the ministry knew where all the werewolves they knew of were. The author said it was scarier to the wizarding community in London that than the actual murders... that there might be werewolves running around and nobody knew who they were."

Vivian nodded. "That's always given me the creeps," she confessed. "How twenty-seven days out of the month, werewolves just walk around looking normal and you'd never be able to tell." She shook her head and changed the subject, apparently not noticing Remus' wince... or perhaps she did notice it, and just misinterpreted it. "Now... you're Muggleborn, right?"

"What makes you say that?" Remus asked, his eyes widening. She was from a pureblood family... what if they were one of the ones who didn't _like_ Muggleborns?

"Your clothes," she replied reasonably. "Although I wasn't sure, actually. 'Lupin' is a wizard name. I shouldn't have phrased it that way, I guess. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh, you didn't," said Remus. "Actually, I'm half and half. My father was a wizard, but I tend to think of myself as more like Muggleborns, because my Mum and my stepdad are both Muggles, and they mostly raised me. I barely know my father's family."

Vivian nodded, and looked a bit brighter. "Okay," she said, "so then why don't we go to the Muggle Café?"

"Where's that?" asked Remus. He hadn't heard of it, but then, he generally tagged along with James and Sirius in Hogsmeade, and they were far more interested in Zonko's and Honeydukes, and in the Three Broomsticks, which was where the good-looking girls from Hogwarts liked to hang out.

"This way," she said, and as she led the way, she explained. "It's not run by Muggles or anything, that wouldn't be allowed. It was founded by a pair of witches – sisters – who spent a lot of time studying Muggles and how they react to magic. They found a lot of things they liked in the Muggle world, so for a retirement project they decided they'd open a Muggle-style restaurant, just for fun. A Muggleborn friend of mine showed me where to find it. Some fun people hang out there – once a week, they let the patrons stand up and recite their own poetry, and there's a long-haired wizard with a singing saxophone who always seems to be around there."

"Sounds like fun," agreed Remus.

When he actually saw the Muggle Café, however, his reaction was to laugh out loud. It was nearly a precise replica of a 1950's soda shoppe, right down to the smooth curves and pastel paint, and it looked very strange and out of place among the medieval architecture of Hogsmeade.

"What's funny?" asked Vivian.

"This looks like the places my parents would go when they were dating," said Remus. "I've seen photographs. In the Muggle world, places like this went out of style ten or fifteen years ago. I've never seen a real one, not that still looked like this."

"Really?" Vivian sounded very surprised. "Things change that fast? I read that when the sisters founded it, it was brand new."

"Yeah," said Remus. Now that he thought about it, things did change very fast in the Muggle world – while in the wizarding world, they didn't seem to change at all. "It doesn't seem that weird when you live with it."

"I guess it wouldn't," said Vivian. "If you want to go somewhere else," she ventured nervously.

"No, this is great," said Remus. "This is just fine."

The inside of the café was just as anachronistic as the outside, with an added level of surreality from the presence of patrons dressed in wizarding robes and cloaks. The beatnik with the singing saxophone was there, just as Vivian had described him, wearing a robe, a pointed hat, a varsity jacket and high-topped sneakers. The atmosphere was completed by a colourful, though of course inoperative, jukebox on one wall.

Remus and Vivian ordered hamburgers and shakes, which wince they were made by house-elves were much better than normal fast-food fare, and talked about Vivian's essay. By the time they'd finished and were going through the box of every-flavour beans looking for a non-disgusting dessert, Vivian had scribbled out an outline she was fairly pleased with, and seemed to be feeling much better about the whole thing.

"Here!" she said triumphantly, pulling out a pinkish-brown jellybean. "I think this is candy apple... it's either that or peanut butter. Here." She put it in Remus' hand.

He looked askance at it. One thing he'd definitely learned from eating the gross beans with James and Sirius was never, ever to eat the brown ones. There were chocolate and root beer and peanut butter ones, yes, but there were also things too terrible to name. "Tell you what," he said, giving it back, "we'll break it in half, and you taste it to make sure."

"Chicken!" she teased. "How'd you ever end up in Gryffindor?" But she broke the bean and popped one half in her mouth. After a moment's thoughtful chewing, she laughed.

"What?" asked Remus.

She swallowed and grinned. "Cat food!"

Remus smiled back. He'd started having fun again, and was very tempted to just forget about what she'd said earlier. After all, out of the whole school only his three best friends and the teachers actually _knew_. Maybe he could... but, he realized, he if actually got serious about seeing Vivian, she was bound to find out sooner or later. He'd better just ask now, so he could nip this whole thing in the bud before doing so became too painful.

"Vivian," he said. "Um, I'm sorry, and if you don't want to talk about it, then that's okay, I understand... but I'm curious. Why did you say you hate werewolves?"

"Because I do." She looked pained. "It's dumb," she admitted. "I know it's not their fault. I know they're normal most of the time and they didn't ask to be bitten, and they can't help what they do. I know, I know, I know, I've heard it over and over, but... ugh." She shuddered. "I just..."

"So it's kind of like a phobia," Remus offered. "It's irrational?"

"I guess," she agreed. "You see, two years ago, my... my father died. Because of a werewolf."

And Remus, rather stupidly, answered with the first thing that came into his head. It was an entirely true statement, but under the circumstances, it was also an entirely misleading one. He said, "mine, too."

"Really?" Vivian looked up.

"Yeah," Remus nodded. "See, we lived in London, and you can't see the stars from there, because there's too much light. So one night my father took me out into the countryside to show me the constellations, and while we were out there, this werewolf found us. The ministry people told us later that he'd escaped from St. Mungos. My father told me to run and he tried to fight it off, and it killed him."

Vivian's eyes were huge. "How old were you?"

"Ten," said Remus. Seven years ago, he realized. Was that all? Was it really less than half his life? It felt like he'd lived with this thing forever.

"Wow," said Vivian. "I was fourteen," she said. "We were staying in this town in Germany – my parents like to travel during the summers – and there'd been this string of murders. Dad figured it was a werewolf and since he was a wizard he thought he could do something about it. And he did, he killed it, and he got in trouble for that. They let him off because it was self-defense. But before he killed it, it bit him."

Remus nodded. "And then?"

"Well, Mum and I took him to the nearest wizarding hospital," said Vivian. "And they kept telling him it would be all right, and there were ways to live with it, but he said he just couldn't. So he... um..." she looked at the jellybeans on the table and licked her lips.

"Killed himself?" Remus ventured.

Vivian nodded, without raising her head. Remus couldn't see her too well, but something about her posture looked like she was about to cry.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's all right," she replied. "Mum never wants to talk about it... we just kind of pretend it didn't happen, and it's awful. And when I try to talk to my friends, they don't seem to want to hear about it." She wiped her eyes and reached out to take Remus' hand. "We've got a lot more in common than I thought."

"Yeah," said Remus. But he was back to feeling sick again.


	13. Chapter 13

James had promised to meet Sirius in the Three Broomsticks on Sunday morning. It wasn't what he'd hoped to do with his weekend – he had a term paper to work on and a date to retrieve, after all – but this was an emergency. The poor guy had been in a very un-Sirius-like funk all yesterday, and it would be up to James to snap him out of it... definitely up to James, because Remus had vanished. Again.

Despite his friends repeatedly denying that they were conspiring to do something without him, James was feeling more and more as if he'd missed something important. For starters, he had _no_ idea what had gotten into Sirius yesterday. The Hufflepuff seeker was alive and well – sure, the accident must have _hurt_, but Madam Pomphrey could cure just about anything that didn't kill you outright. Sirius' reaction had been all out of proportion to what had actually happened. And then there was Remus, and his rather pathetically obvious crush on the Ravenclaw girl. What was wrong with the pair of them?

James had nothing against crushes. He'd been crushing on Lily Evans since first year, and if Remus was lucky enough to crush on a girl from a rich and influential family, good for him. But his expressed interest in asking Miss Calibourne to the ball was worrying. Didn't he understand the difference between dating and romance? Dating was public, and it was therefore something you did for status; the marauders and the Black triplets had no romantic designs on each other at all – James didn't even particularly like Narcissa – they went out because everybody expected them to. He'd thought Remus understood that.

Apparently not. And as for Sirius... James had _no_ idea what was going on with Sirius. And even Peter, who was usually very dependable if you wanted company, even if he was generally only a last resort, had wandered off, too. Who could blame James for being a little paranoid?

So there he was, waiting in the Three Broomsticks... and by the time Sirius was half an hour late, James was well and truly fed up. He finished his butterbeer, stood up, and started back up the hill to Hogwarts, intent upon dragging Sirius kicking and screaming out of the common room if that was what it took.

On the way, he happened to pass The Brew, a small coffee shop that most Hogwarts students didn't frequent... it was mostly little old witches in crocheted shawls that sat in there, and thus the marauders avoided it like the plague. But today, for some reason, James found his eye drawn to the window as he passed... and he did quite an impressive double-take when he saw who was sitting at the front counter.

No wonder Sirius hadn't showed up. He was sitting in The Brew with a _girl_.

James stood with his mouth open as he stared at the scene. Sirius looked normal enough; he was dressed in the conservative black robes his parents insisted on providing him with – James like to joke that it made him look like a priest – and his hair was in its usual windblown disarray. But the _girl_ he was talking to... she was dressed like a sort of belated hippie, in a patterned peasant blouse and a pair of embroidered bell bottom jeans. There was a barrette in her hair with a big cloth flower on it. The idea that Sirius would let himself be seen with somebody like that was ridiculous enough even _before_ James recognized the Hufflepuff seeker.

What the _hell_ was going on here?

James pushed the door open and stuck his head inside.

"So then," Sirius was saying to the girl, "she asks him, 'okay, what are you studying, then?' And Potter is drunk silly, so he just gives her this big, stupid grin and says, 'your breasts!'"

The girl laughed out loud. "What did she say?"

"Nothing," replied Sirius. "She punched him in the face."

Cups of coffee and slices of cake materialized on the table in front of them as the establishment's house-elves filled their order. Sirius picked up his fork and dug in.

"What about the other one?" asked the girl. What was her name? James couldn't remember... who _cared_ about the name of some ugly girl in Hufflepuff? "The short one?"

"Remus?" asked Sirius. "Shy as hell. I think he's actually scared to death of Bellatrix. He's never said two words to her except when he's had to answer a question... not that I can remember anyway."

James stepped inside, closed the door, and walked up to stand behind the two, waiting for them to notice him. But they didn't... Sirius just went on telling embarrassing stories about the marauders, and the girl went on laughing at them, and James might as well have been wearing his invisibility cloak for all the attention they were paying him. Eventually he was forced to clear his throat to make them look up – and even then, he had to do it twice.

"Oh. Hi, James," said Sirius. He glanced at the girl, and gave James a nervous grin.

"Hi, Padfoot," said James.

"Hello, James Potter," said the girl. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard _so_ much about you."

Sirius snorted in the effort to suppress laughter.

"Thanks," replied James. "And you are...?"

"This is Rosalie Cranmer," said Sirius. "Um, James, look, I'm sorry. I meant to meet you, but it kind of slipped my mind. Can you give me a minute, and I'll be right there?"

"Actually," said James, "I was just heading back to school anyway. But if _you_ can spare a minute, I think we need to talk."

"Er... Okay," said Sirius.

James got up, and he and Sirius went into the men's room to speak in private.

"Look, Prongs," said Sirius. "Don't start in on me, okay? This isn't what it looks like, I swear. I'm just apologizing to her for what happened yesterday, and that's all. It took a while to even talk her into accepting it, so if you could just leave us alone..."

"Sure," said James. "But one question, please: what is the matter with you two lately?"

"Who? Me and Rosalie?" asked Sirius. He seemed honestly confused about it.

"No! You and Remus!" said James. "He's out following some owl-eyed Ravenclaw heiress like a little lost puppy, if you'll excuse the term, and you're hanging out with a member of the losing team. We're supposed to be getting the triplets back, remember? Is this some misguided attempt to make them jealous? Because if it is, they're just going to laugh at us. Have you _looked_ at your little friend there? She's got no tits, I'll bet you can see every bone in her body, and she's dressed like a flower child! What in Merlin's name possessed you to go out in public with her?"

"Well, why do you think I'm _here_ instead of someplace where people are going to see me?" asked Sirius. Then his expression changed suddenly. "And since when are you the boss of my love life, anyway? You can't just walk in and tell me that the girl I decided to spend my weekend with doesn't have big enough tits for you. That, right there, Prongs, that's why the rest of the school thinks we're assholes."

James stared at him. "Excuse me? Since when?"

"Since always," said Sirius. "Have you ever seriously asked anyone what they think of us and gotten an honest answer? People like Lucius Malfoy better than us! _He's_ just a rich snob. _We're_ a bunch of jerks with our heads so far up our bums we can see out our own mouths."

"Don't change the subject," said James. "Padfoot, we're the marauders! What is seeing Miss Peace And Love out there going to do to your _reputation_?"

"I was just telling you," said Sirius.

"No, you weren't," said James. "You were telling me that everybody thinks we're jerks, and that has _nothing_ to do with..."

"Yes, it does," said Sirius. "It has everything to do with it. My 'reputation' can't possibly get any worse, so why should I care?"

James couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Are you on some medication I should know about?"

Sirius sighed. "Look, James," he said. "Last night, after the party was over, and I went and talked with Rosalie in the hospital wing again..."

"And _she_ told you all that?" said James. "Well, no wonder! You nearly killed her with a bludger! Of _course_ she's going to think you're a jerk! One girl with a grudge isn't..."

"But _she_ doesn't," said Sirius. "That's the thing! I couldn't' believe it, but I apologized and she forgave me! How many people do that and really mean it, huh? Most people say sorry isn't enough, but it was for her!"

"Well, that's _her_ problem," said James. "Padfoot, you're... um... you're not making any sense."

"I know," Sirius confessed. "It doesn't make sense to me, either. Here: yesterday, after the game, I went and talked to her, and I thought about what she was saying, and I kept thinking that she couldn't' be right, because if she was right then I was an asshole who didn't matter, and then suddenly I realized that I _was_. And you know what?"

"What?" asked James warily.

"It seemed like the most horrible thing in the world," said Sirius. "But halfway through the party I kind of had this... what's the word, when you suddenly figure something out?"

"Epiphany?" James guessed.

"Epiphany, yeah. And I realized I didn't even care."

"Oh," said James. "And this is... good?"

"I don't know," said Sirius miserably. "But... you know, I really don't care anymore. I don't care if I can't get Andy to go to the ball with me, because Remus is _right_; it doesn't matter! We're almost adults, James. You really thik that in ten years, anybody's going to care who we went to the graduation ball with? Nobody who _matters_ will, and those who _care_ won't _matter_."

James still couldn't begin to follow any of this. "You... asked her to the ball?"

"Not yet," said Sirius. "I mean... not not yet as in I'm definitely going to, but..." he sighed. "Forget it, Prongs, it doesn't make sense to me either. But I hurt her pretty bad yesterday and I'm trying to make it up to her. Is that okay with you? Or do I have to just leave her sitting there because you said so?"

James shrugged. "I give up," he said. Remus was out with a girl and Sirius was talking about how image didn't matter... it was like the Pod People were invading or something. "You do what you want. I'll be in the Three Broomsticks if you want me."

He pushed the washroom door open and stepped back into the main part of the coffee shop, just in time to see Lily Evans and three friends walk in. Well, hey, the day was looking up.

"Hey, Evans!" James waved to her. "Too embarrassed to show your face after rooting for the losing team yesterday?"

"Oh, for crying out..." she groaned. "What are _you_ doing here, Potter?"

He grinned. "Apparently finally figuring out where you've been all my life. Can I buy you a coffee?"

"Read my lips," she replied. "Fuck off."

Too easy. "I can think of lots of things I'd rather fuck," he said.

Lily clenched her jaw. "Don't you _ever_ say that to me again. That is rude, crude, and socially unacceptable even for you." And she turned around and left.

James laughed, and looked back at Sirius expecting to be able to share the amusement with his friend... but Sirius wasn't even smiling.

"Why do you do that to her, Prongs?" he asked.

"Because it's _funny_," said James. "Why else?"

Rosalie Cranmer stood up. "Sirius," she said, "since my broom kind of got broken I was thinking I'd go look at the second-hand place up the street. Want to come?"

"Sure," said Sirius, and he actually looked relieved by the offer as he grabbed his coat. "See you, Prongs," he said. He grabbed his coffee and cake to take with him, and walked out with Rosalie on his arm.


	14. Chapter 14

Remus got back first. James was playing exploding checkers with himself in the Gryffindor common room when he friend came slouching in. Remus' body language was that of a person who did not want to be disturbed by anyone or anything, and instead of stopping to say so much as 'hello', he headed straight up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

"Hello, Moony," said James.

"Hello, Prongs," said Remus, and kept going. The door banged shut behind him.

He was in the dorm for about five minutes, then reappeared carrying a bath towel and his pajamas. Still without saying anything, he came down the stairs and headed up the hall towards the Gryffindor Prefects' bathroom.

"How was your date?" James asked.

"Don't talk to me, Prongs," Remus replied. A few seconds later, the bathroom door closed, and James heard water running.

"That good, eh?" James muttered to himself.

Weird.

Sirius returned about half an hour later, and also made straight for the dorms without stopping.

"Hello, Padfoot," said James.

"Hello, Prongs," said Sirius. And unlike Remus, he paused at the top of the stairs and leaned on the railing. "James," he said, "how long have we been friends now?"

James shrugged. "I dunno. Our Mums used to have tea together when we were five. If we had a 'first met', neither of us were old enough to remember it."

"So basically our whole lives," said Sirius.

"I guess," said James. "Do I want to know why you're asking?"

"Because," Sirius told him, "that means we've been friends for seventeen years, Prongs, and in seventeen years you have _never_ humiliated me like you did today."

James had been about to take a red checker, but upon hearing that, he put the piece down and looked up at Sirius. The other boy was clearly angry, there was no doubt about that. But... "huh?" said James. "What did I do?"

"You picked a fight with Evans," said Sirius. "Right there, while I was _trying_ to convince Rosalie that we're not the jerks we come across as."

James was beginning to seriously entertain the notion that he had somehow stumbled into an alternate universe. "Five minutes before that, you were telling her what I said about Sarah Tooke's breasts," James pointed out. "What was _that_ supposed to convince her of?"

"It wasn't. It was supposed to make her laugh," said Sirius.

"And it's somehow funnier than Evans' little PMS attack?" James raised his eyebrows.

"James!" said Sirius. "For Merlin's sake, you made a joke about screwing her in front of half a dozen little old ladies... did you _see_ the looks on the other customers' faces? We're never going to be able to go in there again!"

"Last year, you were _proud_ of the list of places we'd been banned from," said James.

"Yeah, but we got kicked out of them on _purpose_," said Sirius. "Why do you do that with her anyway? You know, in three years I've never stopped to think about that... I thought you _liked_ Lily Evans. In first year, when McGonagall called her up to be sorted, you leaned across the table and told me you were going to marry her someday. Your sketchbook is full of drawings of her. If you _like_ Lily, then why do you take every chance you get to piss her off?"

Sirius was lecturing him. _Sirius was lecturing him_. He sounded like James' _mother_. "Does that really matter to you?" James asked.

"Well, apparently it matters to _you_ who _I_ like," said Sirius sourly.

"Sirius," said James. "You sound like a girl. You know what? Fine. Do what you want. Date who you want. And excuse me if _I_ don't want to be seen at the last major social event ever at Hogwarts with a girl nobody will be jealous of me for." He jumped the red checker, which exploded with a puff of smoke and a very satisfying little pop. "What am I _supposed_ to do with Evans?" he asked. "Show up with a bouquet of flowers and recite poetry for her?"

Sirius stared at him. "Are you following me around?"

"What?" asked James. "Where did that come from?"

"Answer the question," said Sirius. "Are you following me around invisible?"

"No!" said James. "Of course not! Why would I do that? What is the matter with you? What in the world makes you think I'm spying on you?"

Sirius shook his head. "Forget it."

James pushed his hands up into his hair. "Okay – a week ago we were best friends. Yesterday you were sulking and Remus was gone. Today, _Remus_ is sulking and you're accusing me of stalking you. _What_ _happened_? What did I _possibly_ say that made you think I was following you around?"

"Oh, for..." Sirius turned around and looked at the wall as he answered. "I thought you were making fun of me, because that's how I got Rosalie to go to Hogsmeade with me. She didn't want to, because she thought I was just doing it to sort of punish myself or something. But I knew she liked poetry, because I met her when I found her grandmother's poetry book. So I gave her a yellow rose, because Professor Sprout said yellow's the right colour for an apology, and I recited a poem for her, and she said yes."

James could not have been more surprised if Sirius had said he'd stood on his head and sang _I'm Henry the Eighth_ until Cranmer relented. In fact, the latter would have been more in character for him. It _had_ to be the Pod People. "You _really_ did that?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, still staring at the wall. James would have bet that if he could have seen his friend's face, it would have been tomato red. "I figured it's like the triplets said, right? If you really want a girl to do something for you, you have to put some effort into it."

James' approach to girls was built on putting in as little effort as possible. The only thing he could think of to reply to that was to change the subject totally. "Have you got any idea what's eating Moony? He came through here and wouldn't talk to me."

"Not a clue," said Sirius. "I haven't seen him all day." And he vanished into the dorm.

That left James in the common room with his checkers and a bunch of first and second-year students who were trying to pretend they hadn't overheard the entire conversation. It was true enough, he thought, as he watched the checkers evaporate one by one in little clouds of red and black smoke. He _did_ like Lily Evans. He liked her a lot. There wasn't another girl like her at Hogwarts... or anywhere else that he'd ever seen.

The first thing that had interested him in her was, of course, her looks. She wasn't as gorgeous as, say, Narcissa Black, but then not a lot of girls were. And with that dark red hair and those amazing green eyes that just seemed to look right through you... her eyes made him wish he could just cover her in emerald jewelry... rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, anklets, belts... and, in the best version of that particular fantasy, nothing else.

But beautiful wasn't all Lily was. She was as smart as a whip and as tough as leather – she'd been a heck of a Quidditch chaser before James' teasing had driven her off the team – and brave as a lion. And she seemed so much more _real_ than most pretty girls. If Narcissa Black was the goddess on the pedestal, the Arwen of Hogwarts, so to speak, then Lily Evans was the Eowyn – the equally gorgeous but so much more earthy warrior babe.

What _was_ he supposed to do about it, though? James had asked her out for the first time in third year, and had been sharply rebuffed... so he'd made a joke out of it to assuage his hurt feelings, and had tried to convince himself that dating wasn't really about who you liked, anyway. And both the joke and the approach to relationships had gone on to become chronic things... running gags, as it were. Sirius and Remus, neither of them interested in really getting serious with a girl, had been happy to go along with both...

... and Evans went off and dated Snivellus Snape. Every time James thought about it, he wanted to smash something. Snape didn't _deserve_ her. James wasn't sure anybody on earth could really _deserve_ a girl like Lily Evans, but if anyone did, that person sure as hell wasn't geeky, conniving, slimy, acne-ridden Snivellus. Merlin, but James hated him. What the hell did Snape have that James Potter didn't? _He_ sure didn't show up with poems and flowers.

But after four years of the current situation, even if James _had_ been willing to embarrass himself as Sirius had apparently done – and after _that_ he accused _James_ of humiliating him by doing something he should have known darned well James would do? – it was probably going to take a lot more than flowers and poems.

"Hey... um, Prongs?" said a voice.

James looked up, not wanting to _know_ what it was this time... but it turned out to be Peter Pettigrew. He sat down opposite from James and leaned forward over the little table, speaking in a low voice. "Could you do something for me?"

"That depends," said James. "What would it be?"

"I need to borrow your invisibility cloak," said Peter. "Just for the one night."

"What are you going to use it for?" asked James.

"To be invisible," Peter replied, as if this should have been obvious. And while it _was_ obvious, it was far from _complete_.

"To be invisible doing _what_?" James asked. He hoped his tone would convey that he was in no mood for anybody trying to be mysterious.

Apparently not. "Going downstairs," said Peter. "Please, Prongs? It's kind of important, but I'd really rather not say why. It's embarrassing. Please?"

James narrowed his eyes. "Are you seeing a girl?" he asked. If _Peter Pettigrew_ had a girlfriend, even an ugly one, when James didn't, somebody or something was going to die. This was ridiculous.

"No, no," said Peter. "Of course not. I just need to get out of the dorm after dark, just for _one_ night. _Please_?"

"No," said James, because he was annoyed.

"Oh," said Peter. "Well... thanks anyway. I guess. See you later." And he got up and went back upstairs.

Great – now Peter was in on it, too. Sirius and Remus were seeing girls, didn't want James' company, and were letting _Peter_ in on something they wouldn't tell _James_ about. James had always been the ringleader of their little group, while Peter tagged along because nobody would beat him up as long as he stayed close to the other three. What in Merlin's name was all this about?

He had a sinking feeling that the _real_ explanation would be even _worse_ than Pod People.


	15. Chapter 15

Peter really hadn't expected to be allowed the use of James' invisibility cloak – James had, after all, inherited it from his grandfather, and was very careful of it. The fact that Peter refused to tell him what he wanted to do with it did not, of course, help... but there was no way Peter could say he'd accidentally gotten a date with Moaning Myrtle. James would never have let him forget it.

So he was entirely visible that night as he crept out of Gryffindor Tower – and accordingly, very nervous. Filch and his cats would be out... if Peter were caught out of bed, he'd be in detention for the rest of the year. So he was incredibly jumpy as he made his way through the maze of Hogwarts to the Room of Requirement. Once or twice he was quite certain he heard footsteps following him, but when he stopped and listened, he decided they must've been his imagination.

He made it to the Room without meeting custodian or cats, and paused outside it, as was necessary, to single out what he needed so that the Room would provide the right solution. If you didn't know what you needed before you went in, the Room of Requirement might give you something else entirely. Once Peter had tried to find it while hungry, hadn't stopped, and had ended up in a room full of cakes instead of the soundproof chamber where the marauders practiced their transformations.

Tonight, he needed something that would get him out of going to the Ball with Myrtle. He thought about that, and opened the door.

On the other side was a staircase, lit by torches. It spiraled down out of sight – he couldn't see where to, but it was all old, mossy stone and very spooky in the flickering torchlight. Was his solution down _there_? He swallowed, turned up his collar, and...

"Who goes there?" asked a voice.

"Huh?" Peter looked up. "Who are you?"

"Did I not ask _thee_ first?" the voice inquired.

"Oh," said Peter. "I guess. I'm Peter Pettigrew. Sorry, am I disturbing you?"

The voice sighed, and a ghost materialized in front of Peter – it was a boy, fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in a gray doublet and wearing a huge lacy collar that must have been awfully itchy. "Nay," the boy said sadly. "Or rather, thou are indeed... but in sooth, I have longed a great while now for someone to disturb me. It is my pleasure indeed to meet you, Peter Pettigrew. I am Christopher Fitzwilliam."

"Hi," said Peter. And then, just to be on the safe side, he thought he'd better point out, "you're dead. You know that, right?"

"I do," Christopher said mournfully. "If thou followest these steps, thou shald find my body at the bottom, where I fell and dashed my head I know not how long ago. Ever since, I have waited here for some one who would wonder what might have become of me and come looking, but thou art the first."

Peter looked down the stairs, then decided he definitely wasn't going down them, solution or no solution. "When was that?" he asked.

"The ninth day of September," Christopher said, "in the year of our lord, fifteen hundred and seventy four."

Peter's eyes grew huge. "You've been down here for four hundred years?"

"Have I?" Christopher seemed just as surprised. "Has it been so long? In the darkness I cannot count the days and nights. Woe is me, then, for I suppose my poor parents never knew what fate befell me. To say nothing of my friends and teachers..."

Peter had never heard anybody say 'woe is me' and actually _mean_ it before. He sat down on the steps. "What did happen?" he asked. "How did you fall?"

Christopher sat down next to him – he had very long, bony legs, which weren't flattered by the tights he was wearing. "It is a tragic tale of my own foolishness," he sighed. "John Barbour in Gryffindor House told me he expected I shouldn't dare to put hotfoot powder in the history professor's shoes – so naturally I tried to do so, to prove myself braver than he, but I was caught at it and forced to flee. I came in here to get quickly back to my common room, as I had done many times before, only to slip on the step and split my skull upon the stone." He sighed sadly. "And thus was my life ended for the sake of a foolish prank. I found myself unable to pass through the doors, either at the top of the stairs or at the bottom, and so I have waited here, for somebody to find me."

"That sounds _awful_," said Peter. "I'd've gone nuts from boredom if it was me."

"If only I had that release!" groaned Christopher. "Insanity would be welcome! But five hundred years, thou sayest?" He looked like he still didn't quite believe it. "That is a remarkable thing! I hadn't thought this passage so difficult to find as all of that, even if one cannot enter it from the other end."

"Oh, this isn't a passage," said Peter. "Not all the time, anyway. This is the Room of Requirement. It becomes whatever you need it to be. So if you needed a secret passageway back to your common room, it would be that, but it can be all kinds of other things." He thought about that. "That must be why nobody found you! Nobody else opened this door hoping for a secret passageway back to whatever was your common room! And if you can't go out... maybe the doors only work for the living."

"Then I am truly wretched," Christopher heaved a sigh – or at least appeared to. Being a ghost, he didn't actually take in any air. "Am I to be trapped in here for all eternity?"

By now, Peter was getting a very good idea of how this was going to help him escape a date with Myrtle. "I don't think so," he said. "I think I can let you out. Let's try it!" He got up, opened the door, and stepped out into the hall. "Come on – you try it."

Christopher looked nervous, but he got to his feet and gave it a try... and passed through he doorway without obstruction.

"Oh, happy day this is!" he exclaimed, and nearly tried to hug Peter before seeming to remember that this wasn't exactly possible. "My friend! I am forever indebted to thee! Whatever can I do to repay thy kindness?"

"You can come and meet somebody," replied Peter. "I think you and her will get along great."

On the way to the first floor bathroom, Peter explained to Christopher how he'd ended up in that particular manifestation of the Room of Requirement – or at least, gave an explanation. He didn't think Christopher would like the truth very much. "She haunts a bathroom," he explained, "so none of the other ghosts like her very much. I felt so bad for her I asked her to go to a dance with me, I thought it would cheer her up, but she needs a real friend. And I thought, where am I going to find a friend for a lonely ghost?"

"It does seem an unlikely thing to find _anywhere_," said Christopher.

"It does," Peter nodded. "But then my friend Remus told me about how him and Sirius went into the Room of Requirement looking for dates, and they both met great girls right away. So I thought I'd give it a try, and there you were."

"Here I am, indeed." Christopher nodded. "Where is this lady?"

"In here." Peter pushed the bathroom door open. "Myrtle!" he called.

"Go away!" her voice came back, sounding rather watery – she was in one of the toilets again.

"Myrtle, it's me, Peter Pettigrew," he said. "I've found a friend for you! Come on out and meet Christopher."

There was a pause as Myrtle apparently hesitated, then she floated through the doorway of a stall. "You shouldn't be in here," she said, "not either of you. This is the _girls'_ room."

Peter wasn't too sure how to answer that, so he just got on with the introductions. "Christopher," he said, "this is... uh... Lady Myrtle the Moaning. Myrtle, this is Christopher Fitzwilliam. He haunts the Room of Requirement. I figured, you know, both of you are pretty lonely and don't see the other ghosts much, so I thought you might like to meet each other."

Christopher bowed. "A pleasure to make thy acquaintance, my lady."

For the first time that Peter could remember, a look that wasn't strictly misery crossed Myrtle's face. For a moment she was surprised, but then it turned to suspicion. "Are you making fun of me?"

"He's not," said Peter. "He's just been in the Room of Requirement stuck for four hundred years and doesn't know how people talk now." He took a couple of steps back. "Well, I'm glad you two got to meet, but I really ought to be in bed, I don't want Filch to catch me wandering around or I'm gonna be in detention and then you and I can't go to the dance, Myrtle! Good night!"

"Good night, Peter Pettigrew," said Christopher.

"Night," said Peter, and turned and hurried out of the bathroom.

He made it back to the dorm without anything significant happening – at one point, he heard a cat meow, and ducked into the shadow of a suit of armor, certain he was about to be caught. But then a painting fell off the wall at the other end of the corridor, its subject letting out a frightened shout, and the startled cat ran off. Peter said a short prayer of thanks and ran back to the common room just as fast as his legs would carry him.

Once there, he quickly changed his pajamas and got into bed, where he fell asleep quickly, feeling quite accomplished. He wouldn't know for a while if introducing her to Christopher had _really_ gotten him out of going to the dance with Myrtle, but for now it seemed like quite a real possibility. If the Room of Requirement could get Remus and Sirius dates, anything was possible.

He didn't even notice that James' bed was empty. And he was certainly fast asleep when James came in.

As for James himself, he packed up his invisibility cloak, climbed into bed, and pulled the pillows over his head so that nobody would be able to hear him laughing. So... Peter had gotten himself a date with Moaning Myrtle – James didn't even want to know _how_ – and was now trying to con innocent unsuspecting ghosts into meeting her in order to get out of it. But that wasn't half as funny as the idea that Remus and Sirius had honestly gone into the Room of Requirement looking for dates.

So _that_ was where Sirius had picked up the flat-chested hippie girl from Hufflepuff... and Remus had gotten himself a nerdy heiress. The idea that even an inanimate object could have thought those were decent matches was hilarious! He was going to have to figure out some way to rib them about it... some way that didn't involve admitting he'd followed Peter, of course. He'd have to make them admit it themselves, and _then_ the fun could begin.

As James drifted off to sleep, still snickering to himself, the thought occurred to him that maybe they'd just gotten stuck with losers because they hadn't done it right. Maybe they'd just been wanting 'a date' rather than 'a _hot_ date' or 'a _worthwhile_ date' or a specific girl. Maybe if he... no, he couldn't do that, he had his pride. But then, he did also have an invisibility cloak...

He'd think about it in the morning.


	16. Chapter 16

"Padfoot?" asked Peter. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Huh?" Sirius looked up from his plate. "What?"

"You're... awfully cheerful," Peter replied warily, waving his fork in a vague circle. "I mean... you don't usually _hum_ at breakfast."

Sirius blinked, then glanced at Remus, who was stabbing repeatedly at a pancake he showed no apparent desire to eat. "Was I humming?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Remus.

"Oh," Sirius shrugged. "Sorry." No wonder Peter was worried; humming to himself _was_ something Sirius usually did. He tried to remember _what_ he'd been humming... it was something by that Muggle band Evans liked – the Bugs or whatever they called themselves. _All you need is love, da-da da-da-da, all you need is love_... that was it.

Okay, yeah, come to think of it, he _was_ being kind of disgustingly cheerful this morning, especially for a Monday. He'd been singing in the shower, too – James had given him this revolted look and then walked off without talking to him. But Sirius couldn't help himself. He just felt so _free_. For more than six years of his life he'd been locked up in this little cage of worrying about what everybody thought of him, and now that he's realized it didn't actually _matter_, it was like he could fly. He, Sirius Black, could do anything he damn well wanted... and it was _beautiful_.

So was Rosalie. Maybe not the way he would have wanted last week – she was still short and flat and big-eyed... heck, she wasn't even as pretty as the Ravenclaw girl Remus was so taken with – but she was beautiful in her forgivingness... if that was a word, which Sirius suspected it wasn't. He still couldn't quite believe that she'd actually forgiven him for all the hurt and humiliation he'd caused her. Forgiven him enough to _date_ him, even. _That_ was beautiful, and made Sirius' circle of friends and family look like a bunch of cold-hearted bastards.

All in all... well, Sirius doubted he was in _love_. Love was supposed to take a long time to get started, and his inner cynic wasn't sure it was anything more than a fairy tale anyway. But he was definitely in _like_ and possibly a bit of _lust_ as well, although if that were the case it wasn't much like the lust he was in with Ianthe or Helene or Phaeda Panopolous, the seeker on the Greek National Quidditch team... whatever it was, though, it was enough to make him sing in the shower and think in terribly disjointed sentences, and it felt pretty damn good by any name.

It felt good enough, he suddenly realized, that he hadn't even noticed that James wasn't sitting with them for breakfast.

Or that Remus hadn't eaten a thing.

Sirius shook his head as the pink fog cleared from it. "Where's Prongs?" he asked Peter.

The answer was a shrug. "He told me to tell you to tell me to tell him when you want to let him in on the conspiracy."

It took a moment for Sirius to work that one out: ah, yes, then. James wasn't here because he was still mad that Sirius had called him on being a jerk. Well, James could go r... no, Sirius changed his mind mid-thought. No, James didn't have to go rot. Sirius would forgive him. It wasn't going to matter in a hundred years what Rosalie had heard him say to Lily, and it wasn't worth holding a grudge against his best friend. That was another thing about Rosalie... she made you want to spread her philosophy around.

But then there was still Remus. He was sitting slumped on the bench, picking at pancakes and fruit that he'd cut up but didn't seem to have eaten any, and he looked like he hadn't slept much. Of course, the full moon was only four days away, but Remus' "Pre-Moon Syndrome", as the boys jokingly called it, had been much better since James, Sirius, and Peter started accompanying him to the shrieking shack every month. So what was the matter?

"Are you all right, Moony?" asked Sirius.

"No," said Remus.

"I... um... kind of have something I'd better go check up on. A project." Peter stood up and stuffed a section of orange into his mouth. "Be back in a minute," he said around the fruit, and scurried off.

Sirius chewed and swallowed a mouthful, then looked at Remus again. "Moony?"

"Vivian's afraid of werewolves," said Remus.

It was sort of hard to come up with a reaction to that. "Well," said Sirius. "y'know... a lot of people are afraid of werewolves."

"A werewolf killed her father," Remus said morosely. "Sort of. She told me about it. And then I told her that a werewolf killed _my_ father, too, but I didn't tell her the rest of it. All the way back to school I kept thinking she was going to ask me, if he died then how did I escape, and then I'd have to say that I didn't. But she never asked me."

"That's good," Sirius offered.

"No, it's not," said Remus.

"Yeah, I guess not," said Sirius.

There was silence. Sirius thought madly, trying to come up with something to say, but he had no ideas. There wasn't much he could offer by way of comfort, and absolutely nothing that might count as a solution. Remus was a werewolf and that was sort of that... and if Vivian's father had been killed by one, then she was scared of them and that was probably that, too. "Don't tell her" was what Sirius _wanted_ to say, but it would be a _dumb_ thing to say. And when you'd ruled out those, you were left with exactly nothing, so the silence just went on and on...

Only to be broken in the worst possible way, as Vivian herself stopped to talk to them on her way by.

"Morning, Remus," she said.

He swallowed, sat up, and gave her an uneasy smile. "Morning, Vivian."

She cocked her head, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said.

"I think he's coming down with something again," Sirius spoke up. "He... gets sick a lot."

Remus kicked him under the table.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you," said Vivian. "I found out that the Other Library has a copy of that Jack the Ripper book. I guess that makes sense, the way you said the room works. But it's turning out to be really interesting, so thanks for recommending it to me." She smiled nervously. She liked him, Sirius could tell... she liked him maybe as much as Sirius was starting to like Rosalie. Oh, yes, this was indeed a problem.

"You're welcome," said Remus.

"Did... you want to go to the library again after classes today?" asked Vivian. "We could work on the essay some more. Or something."

"I can't." Remus shook his head. "Sorry. I really can't."

"That's all right," said Vivian. "Maybe tomorrow, then?"

"Maybe," said Remus.

Vivian bit her lip. "You're _not_ all right," she said. "What's wrong?"

"He just got some bad news," said Sirius.

"What happened?" asked Vivian.

"It's kind of personal." Remus kicked Sirius again. "I'm sorry. I'd like to talk about it, but I can't."

"I understand," Vivian nodded. "See you later, then."

Remus just nodded, and Vivian went on her way to drop her plate off on the sideboard, where the house elves were waiting to whisk everything away to be washed. But the bounce had gone out of her step.

"That... uh..." Sirius began, then changed his mind. What he'd been going to say was 'that didn't exactly make things any better', but that wouldn't help. As he'd noted before Vivian showed up, there really wasn't _anything_ that was going to help this.

"I know," said Remus – but it was hard to tell what it was he thought he knew about what Sirius had been going to say. Sirius was about to ask, but Remus got up and went after Vivian. "Vivian!" he called.

She stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

Remus took a deep breath. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry, but..." and whatever came after that was said in a voice too low for Sirius to hear. Remus spoke, and then Vivian nodded... and they walked away in different directions, both with slumped shoulders and downcast looks.

"Oh, sure," grumbled Sirius, talking to his plate for lack of anyone or anything else in the immediate vicinity. "Just ruin my morning with your self-pitying, why don't you?"

* * *

"Myrtle?" Peter knocked gently on the bathroom door, then poked his head in when he didn't get a response. "Myrtle? Christopher? Anybody in here?" 

There was a distinct lack of ghostly reply. Peter stepped all the way into the bathroom and looked around. Nope, no ghosts. Maybe Myrtle was showing Christopher around the plumbing or something. Well, that was good. Just so long as she wasn't thinking about going to the ball with Peter, Moaning Myrtle could do anything she wanted.

He smiled to himself and started to head back out. Hopefully, by the time he got back, Sirius and Remus would have finished their little heart-to-heart and James would have decided to show up, and everything could get back to normal. Peter pushed the bathroom door open...

... and nearly rain right into a short, plump Asian girl.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed.

She stared at him in undisguised horror. "This is the _girls_' room, you pervert!"

"I'm not a pervert!" exclaimed Peter.

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"I'm not!" he insisted. "I came to see Moaning Myrtle! 'Cause, y'know, she gets lonely and all. Really, I did."

The girls' expression changed. "You come to visit Myrtle? Really?"

"Yeah," said Peter. "Actually, you see, last night I... um... I found this ghost who'd been stuck in a secret passage for four hundred years. And he was really lonely, so I thought maybe him and Myrtle would like to get to know each other, and I brought him here. That's all I was doing here, was coming to see how they were getting along. Honest. But they're not here, so I guess... well, I guess they're somewhere else."

"You really did that?" the girl repeated.

"Uh-huh," Peter nodded. "Ask Myrtle and Christopher about it when they get back. They'll tell you." And then he realized... an actual _girl_ was actually _talking_ to him... and she wasn't making fun of him and was actually _shorter_ than he was. "I'm Peter Pettigrew, by the way," he said.

"I know," said the girl. "You're in Gryffindor. You hang around with the Marauders. I'm June Kim. I'm a Ravenclaw."

"Nice to meet you." Peter shook her hand. "Hey... um... I know this is sort of sudden and all... but do you have a date for the graduation ball, by any chance?"

"No," said June, who was looking just as stunned about having a boy talk to her as he was about having a girl talk to him. "I'm only in sixth year and the boys I know... well, they think I'm just the weird girl who makes friends with ghosts."

"Well, y'know, maybe if neither of us can find anybody else, we could go together," said Peter. "What do you think?"

"Sure," said June. "We could do that. If you can't find anybody else. I'm not likely to find anybody else, 'cause I'm not graduating, right."

"Right," said Peter. "Okay, we'll do that." He smiled. June smiled back, and Peter felt like turning a cartwheel. What the heck were his friends griping about finding a date? That hadn't been difficult at all! The black triplets had been perfectly right all along – all you actually had to do was ask.


End file.
